


Project Wingman

by random_flores



Category: Women's Murder Club (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 11:58:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/random_flores/pseuds/random_flores
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jill has plans to make Cindy her perfect wing-woman.  She just has to get Cindy over that pesky 'hopelessly in love with Pete-Devoted Lindsay' issue first. Lindsay might just have a problem with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Lindsay had a boyfriend. A long distance boyfriend, whom she hadn't seen in over six months. 

When Lindsay wasn't around, Jill liked to call him Lindsay's 'excuse'. 

"Just another reason not to have a real relationship," she remembered Jill blurting, one late night when it was the two of them sharing a couple bottles of wine. 

Secretly, Cindy suspected some bitterness on Jill's tone, because as much as Jill liked to believe in fantasy, her single life exhibited the fact that she had more than embraced her flaws. 

Lindsay, so outwardly content with her long distance relationship, couldn't understand that Jill had normal with Luke, and had lost it. She had been tried by the one man who wanted her most and been found lacking. 

But Cindy would never tell Lindsay that. 

Just like she would never admit to Lindsay that she actually liked it this way. Deep down, in a selfish part of her that she tried to bury, Cindy liked that Pete was a half a world away, and Lindsay was right here, free to be herself, free to work and smile and be Lindsay without Jill and Claire shoving a man at her every other second. 

As long as Lindsay was with Pete, Lindsay was all hers. 

It wasn't the healthiest perspective, but Cindy told herself she didn't mind that. Everyone was inclined to be twisted about something, and at least this way, she was the one who Lindsay called when she was bored. And she was the one who got pulled into Dog-sitting duties and late night evenings with old movies and a six pack of beers. 

In some respect, she even knew that Lindsay took her for granted, always assuming she'd be available when she needed companionship, when she needed someone to take Martha for the weekend. When she needed a surrogate date because Pete was gone, all she had to do was pick up the phone and dial Cindy's number. 

She had accepted it. It was almost okay. In the long run, it didn't really matter, as long as Pete was around to keep her from having to see Lindsay pine over Tom. 

Apparently, it mattered to Jill. 

\-- 

"We have GOT to hook you up with someone." The gorgeous lawyer, with a twinkle in her eye, wore an expression that was appropriately saucy, tilting a beer bottle up to her lips. 

Blowing out her breath and managing an exaggerated scowl, Cindy turned to her own Cosmopolitan, and flicked a cherry from the bartender's stash toward her busy body friend. "God. What IS it with you and your perpetual need to get everyone laid? You do it enough for the two of us." 

Only Jill Bernhardt would ever take that as a compliment. Nose scrunched adorably, the older woman leaned sideways and planted a borderline inappropriate kiss on the corner of her mouth. 

"Because sitting around mooning over Lindsay is getting pathetic." Sneaking in closer, Jill's hand clasped her shoulder and forced her away from the bar, and toward the crowded mass of people grinding themselves against each other on the small dancefloor the bar provided. "Look at that. We're hot. You're young. I'm sexy. We can take the world by storm and leave a litter of broken hearts in our wake, but you refuse to live up to your potential. And quite frankly, it cramps my style when we tag-team and then my Girl Friday ducks out to go walk Lindsay's dog." 

Tossing her tipsy friend a sympathetic look, Cindy let her temple fall against Jill's cheek, reaching up to tangle her fingers with that of the hand slung over her shoulders. 

"You're right," she said sagely. "You need a better wingman." 

She couldn't fault Jill. It was true. Jill's perpetual glee at discovering that Cindy could be the perfect doubles partner she never had, crashed hard upon discovery of the depth of Cindy's devotion to all things Boxer. 

Cindy could understand her disappointment. 

"I have an awesome wingman," Jill murmured in her ear, and squeezed for her benefit. "You've just got that one thing that we've got to work on." 

"You mean that 'completely in love with our straight best friend' thing." 

"Like it or not, Cindy, Pete's coming back." 

Cindy blanched, because Jill really did have a knack for hitting the nail on the head. "I know that." 

"Then you also know that when he does, Lindsay is going to actually HAVE a boyfriend who walks her dog and waters her plants and watches movies with her, and you, the surrogate-" 

Shuddering, Cindy tried hard to ignore the sudden rupture in her chest, mouth twitching into an unsure smile. "Yeah. I get it." 

And she did. Really, she did, because as much as she wanted Lindsay, Lindsay wanted Pete. And she was what she was: a surrogate. When Pete came back, at the fast approaching one year mark, Lindsay was going to have her boyfriend back and Cindy… would have this. 

Not that this was all bad. 

She took another sip of Cosmo and sighed into the shoulder of who had become, oddly enough, her best friend. 

A few months ago, she really hadn't seen that coming. 

A gunshot wound in the chest really did do wonders for enabling intimacy from affection. 

"Then we're agreed," Jill answered, as is if it were that simple. "It'll be like a patch. We'll wean you off of her. I'll seduce you myself if I have to. What?" she asked, almost offended when Cindy rolled her eyes. "I'd so totally do you." 

"I'd so totally do you," Cindy replied drolly, "If I wasn't all about the Boxer, and you weren't all about the penis." 

"There is that." As if to prove her point, her friend was now happily eyeing a dark haired, handsome jock of a guy fingering a shot glass down the bar. "Doesn't mean I can't appreciate a hot red-head. Unlike some Inspectors." 

"I thought we were moving on," Cindy remarked dryly. 

"We're totally moving on," Jill said, nodding with a little too much force, drifting from tipsy to 'drunk'. "And I have a plan. I'm going to get my wingman, if I have to kill you to do it." 

"We're in the right business for it," Cindy mumbled, draining her Cosmo, referring of course, to their friendly habit of catching murderers. "Speaking of which, did you get that warrant Lindsay asked for?" 

"Uh-uh!" Jill tssked, removing the empty glass form her hands and snapping her fingers at the bartender, requesting another. "No work tonight. Tonight, we discuss on our new project. Project…" she blinked, obviously searching for an appropriately cool name. 

"Wingman?" Cindy asked, more amused than she cared to admit. 

"Too cliché," Jill dismissed. "You're the reporter. Think of something original." 

"What's the purpose of this project?" 

"To wean you away from 'Lindsay's Platonic Girlfriend' and turn you into 'Jill's Awesome Girl Friday Who Helps Her Pick Up Hot Guys and Girls'. Orgies optional." 

The snort was unintentional. "Long-winded, but I'm for it." Carnal objectives aside, her always perceptive, always sexy Devil-on-her-shoulder did have a point. Pete was going to be back in two months. Lindsay wasn't any less in love with him than she had ever been, and logically… if she could be logical about all this… 

She needed to move on. 

She really, really, really didn't want to get her heart trampled on, and that was where she was heading. 

That, or she would somehow slip and one late night get so horny and enamored of her gorgeous Inspector she'd be straddling her and sticking her tongue down her throat, and she was pretty sure THAT would be most unwelcome and friendship damaging. 

Better to take what she could get and run with it. 

Jill's forehead drifted down against her cheek, and the whisper drifted into her ear. "So we need a name." 

"A name," she repeated, and took the drink Jill handed her and raised it to her lips, watching the crowd writhing and bodies thumping. The liquor was starting to do its work now, buzzing pleasantly along her senses and making her feel heady; impulsive. Ahead of her, there was a woman dancing, tossing the intimately entwined pair a curious smile that smacked of interest. When their eyes met, Cindy found herself suddenly exhaling. "Let's start with getting hers." 

"That's my girl," came the gleeful chortle, and then Cindy's phone rang. "Stop," came the automatic order, when Cindy immediately reached for the blackberry. 

"But it could be work!" 

"It could be Lindsay," Jill corrected, eyes squinting suspiciously. "Let me." 

"Hey!" 

Yanking the phone out of her hands with suspiciously quick reflexes, her friend glanced at the caller ID, and arched a knowing eyebrow. Immediately, Cindy scrambled. "Look-" 

"Ah!" Jill snapped her fingers warningly, slapping at the grabby hands. "Are you serious about this?" 

Her thumping, panicked heart told her she was not. "I guess-" 

"Not strong enough. I’m taking charge." Pressing a button, Jill held the phone out of Cindy's reach and turned into the bar. "Cindy's phone!" 

This was one of those times when Cindy really, really hated being short. Her friend, bend-y and a fan of yoga, held the phone to her ear, and batted away any and all attempts to reclaim her phone. 

"Hi Lindsay!" she heard chirpily, and then Cindy found herself actually yelping, redoubling her efforts to get closer to her lifeline. "Yeap. It's Jill. We're hangin'. At a club. No, I'm not drunk." Her eyes rolled expressively. "No, Cindy isn't drunk either. But she's caught the eye of a total hottie and-" 

"Stop it," Cindy yelped, blocked again when Jill shoved a barstool between them. 

"She's not available at the moment!" Jill chose the moment to get violent and smacked Cindy with her palm against her forehead. "Was this work related? I see. Right, well I'm sure your neighbor could let Martha out if you're still working-" 

"I can let Martha -mpph!" Jill's well-placed hand landed over her lips. 

"One sec, Linds. Scuze me-" she began merrily to the hunk she was cruising before. "Hi. Would you mind taking this lovely little redhead to dance? Thanks." She winked. "You're adorable, by the way." 

"No, Jill-" 

But the big oaf was happy to do her bidding, and before Cindy knew it, she had been dragged into the crowd, watching helplessly as Jill explained whatever she was explaining to Lindsay, and proudly hung up the phone. 

Waving to her, Jill's smile was positively evil, working her way through the crowd, grabbing hold of the female Cindy had been eyeing on the way. 

"Trade?" she suggested, and before Cindy knew it, she had taken back her oaf, and Cindy was now staring into the face of a brown-haired woman with curly hair and a gorgeous smile. 

Arm snaking over her shoulders and pulling her back against her, Jill pressed a kiss just below her ear and whispered, "Just remember, this is all for your own good. Now don't even think about calling her back." 

Staring helplessly at the brown-haired, brown-eyed girl who smiled like she had a hanger stuck in her mouth, Cindy for the moment, was lost. 

Until she thought about Lindsay. And about stupid Pete, and Jill laughed and the brown-haired girl smiled and Cindy just became too buzzed and despondent to care. 

The music thumped, and Cindy looked at the woman dancing with her who so obviously thought she was fuckable. 

"Hi," she said.


	2. Chapter 2

There was no question about the way the victim currently lying facedown on the ash colored asphalt had died. The knife in his back painted a grisly, but clear picture. 

At the very least it left them with a murder weapon. 

Thank goodness for small favors, Lindsay Boxer supposed, because she was finding it incredibly difficult to focus on the poor man sprawled out in front of her. 

She wanted really badly to attribute that to exhaustion. 

The wheeze and a burst of light from a flash exploded in front of her, and brown eyes lifting, she pushed up from her squatted position, moving back to allow Claire to snap another photo. 

"What are you thinking?" 

She blinked, sighing at the already forming crowd gathering along the taped off crime scene, peeking over and whispering to each other worriedly. 

Lips brought together in a grimace, Lindsay folded her arms and tried to force her attention back to the body. "I'm thinking this guy and the last guy are related." 

"Wouldn't be a big leap of logic, considering the method of killing," Claire agreed, and settled down on her knees, careful to skirt around the markers to set up another shot. "But I mean, what are you really thinking? Because I know you're not thinking about this body." 

Sometimes the way Claire could read her was absolutely frightening. 

Mouth pulling into a bittersweet smile, Lindsay crossed her arms. "I'm thinking I should have checked in on Jill and Cindy last night." 

"Wha'd they do now?" Claire seemed more amused than concerned, and that wasn't the appropriate response. 

"I called Cindy last night to ask her to look in on Martha and Jill picked up the phone." Claire glanced at her from behind the camera. "Cindy doesn’t ever let anyone answer her phone." 

"Jill's quick. Fast hands." 

"She was drunk." 

"At a bar?" 

"Yeah." 

"It's been known to happen." Claire lowered the camera, and with a small grunt of effort, pushed herself up from her knees, sounding less than concerned. 

"Okay, but why would she not even let me talk to Cindy? I needed her to take out Martha for the night and-" 

"Did she say what Cindy was doing?" 

A hot flush shivered up her spine, and Lindsay fought the annoyed twinge that threatened to overwhelm her again. 

"Something about meeting some… hottie." 

Claire smiled too widely at that. "Good for her." 

"Claire, they were drunk." 

"They're big girls, Lindsay. They don't need a keeper." 

That was so not the point. Disturbed, Lindsay scratched erratically at a nonexistent bug behind her ear, shifting uneasily on her booted heels. "Okay, but don't you think they've been doing that a lot?" 

"What? Going out?" Claire clearly wasn't even close to approaching the level of concern Lindsay was hoping for. "Lindsay, they're two attractive, single women, who obviously thrive on meeting people." Claire shouldered the camera and glanced thoughtfully down at the body. "Hell, with those two cutting a swathe through the single ranks of San Francisco, the men don't stand a chance. Lindsay," she began again, firmer now and brimming with some unspoken warning. "Let them have their fun." 

Fun wasn't exactly what Lindsay thought was happening, and yet she knew she didn't have much of a leg to stand on when it came to enunciating why this was bothering her so much. 

Teeth sinking thoughtfully into her lower lip, she glanced away, looking for a distraction from the knowing glance of her friend when she caught the flash of red hair slipping out of an unfamiliar car. 

For the moment, she was confused, unable to do much else but zone in on Cindy like a bulls-eye, something she had gotten quite good at doing. Cindy regularly caught her attention, she was impossible to ignore. And even if Lindsay knew it wasn't smart, she found herself always waving the redhead through, allowing the crime reporter to duck the tape. Tom didn't like it, but was similarly resigned – Cindy would always find a way to duck the tape. Better to monitor it than let the spunky woman catch something they would miss and then risk life and limb to go rescue Cindy later, when she would have undoubtedly gotten herself in a good fix searching down the key to their murder and her story. 

Her friend wore clothes too dressy for an early morning crime scene. Her hair was too mussed. She shut the car door and didn't nearly have the same usual hyperspeed that she usually displayed when it came to one of their murders. She oddly, seemed to linger, her attention not on the crowd, but on the woman slipping out of the door on the other side. 

Without thinking, Lindsay began to move, brown eyes darkening in concern as she headed toward the tape, ready to see what was going on. 

The other brunette came around the front of the car, and after a too long, too familiar hug, leaned back and pressed a kiss against the redhead's mouth. 

Lindsay's steps screeched to a halt. 

It was impossible to misinterpret what had happened. Lindsay suspected she had just discovered Cindy Thomas' hottie from last night. 

"What's wrong?" Claire suddenly materialized, looking concerned at the look on Lindsay's face, before glancing at the direction to which Lindsay was suddenly glowering. "Oh." 

Cindy was now extricating herself from the other woman's arms, offering a smile that caused an unwilling grind of Lindsay's teeth, before stepping away and watching the other woman get in her car. 

"She got lucky," Lindsay heard Claire murmur. "Good for her." 

The cavalier tone was more than she could handle. "Good for her?!" she sputtered, head swiveling to glare at her friend. "Did you know about this?!" 

"Did I know about what?" 

"…. You know." Lindsay's insides had tightened considerably, and it was disturbing. "About Cindy." 

Lindsay hated HATED that expression on Claire's face. Her stupid 'I know more than I'm letting on but I'm just going to humor you' expression. It was stupid and made absolutely no sense. 

"You mean her appreciation for the ladies?" Claire glanced once again in Cindy's direction, and smiled. "Not really, but it's not entirely surprising, is it?" 

With that, she left Lindsay's side, turning back once more to the body. 

\-- 

"Cindy Thomas!" 

Officer Cho wore a sweet familiar smile, and it wasn't difficult to return it, despite the unpleasant feeling of a pick axe hacking away at her temple. 

"Heeey," she said, fumbling with her sunglasses. It felt infinitely better than she finally got them on. At the very least, it didn't feel like the sun light was stabbing her in her retinas. "Fancy meeting you here." 

He didn't even wait for her to ask. Already, large hands were drifting down to the crime scene tape, lifting up, waiting for her to pass under it. "Late night?" 

She shot him a grateful smile. "You could say that. Thanks." 

"You owe me a coffee," he said, and smiled at her brightly, white teeth flashing. "I'm off tonight." 

Ah yes, the ever present promise of coffee with the good officer, which would have already happened had Cindy not understood that, in this case, coffee was code word for 'date', and the distinct impression that Lindsay would not appreciate her dating a uniform. 

For all the wrong reasons, of course. Or the right ones. Lindsay wouldn't get jealous or possessive or any of those petty human emotions. Lindsay was a cop, and knew the uncomfortable issues that would arise at crime scenes such as these, if Cindy ever went above innocent flirting into full on dating. 

And yet… 

There was something a little reckless about her this morning. 

Maybe it was the hangover. 

Maybe it was the fact that she had had sex for the first time in months, and that… made her feel good. 

Because even if it hadn't been Lindsay… it had been pretty damned hot. 

She wasn't sure why that had surprised her, but it did. 

It was oddly empowering. 

"I don't think I'll be in the mood for anything other than sleep tonight," she began, a smile quirking on her lips, "But raincheck? I won't forget." 

His resulting smile was almost comical in it's exuberance. "Deal." 

"Cindy." 

Immediately, Cho's expression straightened, and ducking his head, he moved fast away from Lindsay Boxer, headed her way with a scowl on her face that could only mean she had witnessed his little liberty with the tape. 

Eesh. 

Sucking in a breath, Cindy managed as charming a smile as she could under the circumstances. 

"Hey…" she managed, trying hard to sound apologetic and genuine. "I'm sorry about that- I shouldn't have ducked the tape." 

But Lindsay didn't look furious. Instead, there was another expression on her face, one Cindy couldn't quite interpret. Her friend came closer, and stared down at her as if she were looking for something. 

And then she saw it, the smallest glimmer of a smile, that got her heart beating again and made her exhale. 

"Like you wouldn't have hollered my name until I let you in." 

An embarrassing flush coursed down her cheeks. "Right." 

Dark orbs once again eyed her intently. "So who was your friend?" 

The statement was soft, inquiring. To Cindy, she may as well have shouted an accusation. 

Blanching, Cindy felt her heart drop into her stomach, and of course, because it was Lindsay, completely lost any ability to lie. Immediately, she jerked back to where Megan had driven away. 

"Oh…" God-dammit. Her voice actually quivered. "Right. That was… Megan?" 

Fingers buried into her bangs, and suddenly, unexplainably mortified, Cindy exhaled slowly. "She's not really a friend, actually. She kinda just … gave me a ride…" 

The soft pressure of a palm against her shoulder alerted her to a reassuring squeeze from Lindsay. 

Thankfully, she was still wearing her sunglasses, and therefore her completely predictable swooning at the touch of her friend was mostly hidden. 

Steeling herself, she glanced up, and discovered, with some surprise, Lindsay's smile had only widened, sunk deeper into her dimples. Dark eyes appeared bottomless, but it was the knowing expression that caught her breath. 

"So that was the hottie from last night?" 

Tone low, her friend again touched her, rendering her breathless, insides tightening. Lindsay's affectionate gesture was meant to comfort, Cindy was sure, but this was not how she envisioned coming out to someone like Lindsay. 

Unable to do much else, she could only shrug. "I got a little drunk..." 

Lindsay's palm, smoothing along her forearm, didn't move much, other than to offer a squeeze. "She was pretty." 

The behavior was confusing, and rather than drive herself crazy with false hopes and imagined sounds of longing or confliction, she offered a sweet smile and rubbed distractedly at her cheek, pulling out her notepad. 

"So what have we got?" 

She could feel Lindsay's gaze burning into her, and prayed that somehow, her friend would understand the need to just pretend this was casual, every day, okay for her. 

"Cindy-" 

"Lindsay!" 

Oh, Thank God. The masculine voice of Jacobi was a godsend, and Cindy pressed her lips together and offered a smile at Lindsay's frustrated glance to her partner. 

"Duty calls?" she asked helpfully. 

Lindsay's gaze moved from her to the crime scene. "Yeah," her friend grudgingly agreed. "See what you can dig up out here and then wait for me? Claire and I want to meet up at Papa Joe's later for a pow-wow." 

Lindsay was just so damned beautiful. 

Swallowing, Cindy bobbed her head, and tried as best she could to keep her voice even. "Sure." 

Another fleeting press against her shoulder, and then Lindsay was gone. 

Breathless, Cindy forced herself not to rub the area, but she could still feel the touch, imprinted on her skin, as if she were branded. 

\-- 

"There she is!" 

With a squeal, Jill Bernhardt jerked out of her seat and threw her arms around the smaller woman at her side. 

Lindsay Boxer found herself supremely irritated at the sight. 

Sighing, she ducked her head and slid into the booth, crossing eyes with a smiling Claire as Jill smiled proudly, arm slung around Cindy's shoulder, oblivious to the pained grin on Cindy's face. 

"She hooked up!" Announcing it proudly, Jill gleefully smacked her lips against the top of Cindy's head. "You two should have seen her last night. She was hot. She was sexy. I shall call her Minime." 

The soft laugh that came from Claire's side of the table did nothing to alleviate the tension that was now actively cramping Lindsay's body. 

Her smile was stale, and her brow couldn't help furrowing in concern as Cindy shook her head and squeezed Jill back, beet red from her proclamation. 

"Yeah, yeah. Cindy got some, good for her." Lindsay sucked in her breath, fingers threading through her hair as Cindy rolled her eyes and thumbed to the direction of the bathroom. "Okay, Barney, can I head to the bathroom? I don't think the attendant in there heard you. Just wanted to make sure she heard the happy news that Cindy got laid." 

Shoving her away, Jill swept the bangs across her forehead and settled into the empty spot beside Lindsay, her best friend offering her a cheery smile. 

Despite the fact that she loved her best friend, Lindsay felt the uncharacteristic urge to pop her. "What are you doing?" 

"Lindsay." Claire's tone was unmistakable, but Lindsay wasn't quite sure she cared. 

Jill arched a brow, and didn't shrink from her glare. "I'm having some fun. With Cindy. Who deserves it." 

"One night stands and getting drunk at night isn't her style." 

"You don't know that." Jill settled into the seat and carelessly reached over the table to pluck a menu from the corner. 

"I do know that." Lindsay's fingers rapped lightly on the tabletop. "Look, I'm not saying she doesn’t deserve to have fun…" 

"Then what's the problem?" Jill was being deliberately vague, but the hard look in the lawyer's eyes told her she knew exactly what the problem was. 

The issue with that was, Lindsay wasn't sure what the problem was herself. 

"There is no problem," Claire enunciated, determined not to take her side. "As long as Cindy's being responsible and Jill's looking out for her, I think there's nothing wrong with blowing off a little steam." 

"Exactly," Jill said, waving a manicured palm proudly. "And do you have any idea how cute she is?" Lindsay had some idea. "It's like… it's almost not fair, what we do in those clubs. Like shooting fish in a barrel." 

"Sounds like you got yourself a wingman," Claire said, with an obnoxiously happy grin. "Congratulations." 

"Thank you!" Jill laughed, clinking water glasses, before Lindsay felt a heated glance in her direction. "Besides, Cindy and I don't have a Pete. And as much fun as walking Martha all the time is, there is something to be said for tall dark strangers, hot bodies, and a sleepless night." 

Wrinkling her napkin in her palm, Lindsay couldn't hide her grimace. 

Annoyingly, Jill ignored it.


	3. Chapter 3

"I don't know how she does it." 

Cindy didn't miss the quirk of a smile that floated on Claire's face as the Medical Examiner bent over their latest body, tilting the head with gloved hands to examine the rope burns that scarred his neck. 

"Don't tell me you're burning out already." 

"I'm not burning out!" Coming forward, Cindy shook her head emphatically. "But I'm just saying! I'm the young one. I'm the one who always has energy to burn. How the hell does Jill do her job and go out at all hours to have hot random sex? I'm drowning in Red Bull three times a week!" 

Claire's smile widened, but she stayed quiet, turning to her sketch pad and making a few notes. 

"It's…" Cindy tried to think of an acceptable term for what she was feeling, and took the time to suck down another gulp of sugar-laced energy drink. The taste was sour, and she winced. "Embarrassing. I'm supposed to be running her ragged." 

"Don't take it personally." Claire straightened, removing the gloves from her hands with a well-practiced snap. "Jill's just excited. She's been trying to get Lindsay to go out with her for years." 

At the mention of their third friend, Cindy exhaled. "Yeah." 

"And don't tell me you're not having a good time." 

The knowing look that was sent her way over the dead body felt almost like the expression her old teacher used to give her in Catholic school when she tried to hem her way out of detention. 

"I’m having fun," she admitted grudgingly. And she was. Honestly. There was something to be said for the emotional high that came with the intoxicating maelstrom that was Jill. She was right. They made a great team, and Cindy was now swimming in eligible bachelors and bachelorettes. Hell, she could have her own dating show. 

And that was the point, wasn't it? To start over, wean herself away from her self-depreciating habit of being at Lindsay Boxer's beck and call? 

It didn't, however, make her miss Lindsay any less. 

"You know she's invented a new rule for me," she said flatly, leaning over the desk to poke her finger at a jar that was filled with something that looked disturbingly like it came from inside a human being. "Yuck. Next Halloween, you should just have Nate's class come here. This is creepy." 

"I don't think scarring those kids for life qualifies as harmless Halloween fun," Claire said, slapping at her hands gently. "Don't touch. What's the new rule?" 

"I can't get serious." Cindy grinned in spite of herself. "I'm under strict orders to keep any sort of dating casual." 

Claire snorted easily. "Makes sense for Jill," she agreed, lips quirking in amusement. "She's just got her perfect wingman. She's not gonna lose her now." Turning away, Claire slipped the sheet over the dead body. 

Cindy found her smile faltering. She understood Jill's reasoning. As the sole member of the Club with knowledge of Cindy's feelings for Lindsay, Jill's plan was put together with a lawyer's precision: strict, formulaic, and without room for deviation. What Jill wanted were results. And rebounds. 

None of this messy 'love' business that would cramp Jill's style, and get Cindy involved in a messy complicated dynamic when she was in no place to love anyone. 

When she didn't want to love anyone but Lindsay. 

"Yeah, well… she says I'm resisting," she answered, louder as she heard the rumbling crank of squeak and metal that slid the body back into its proper place. 

"Why are you resisting?" 

Cindy crossed her arms, and considered the question. 

Introspection was something she was trying to avoid, but she knew the reason. 

She wasn't ready to let Lindsay go. 

Managing a crooked smile for Claire's benefit, she shrugged lightly and tilted her head. "Because I like getting eight hours of sleep more than once a week?" 

Claire chuckled lightly, and given the reprieve of having Claire buy that, Cindy managed a smile of her own. 

\--

"Long distance relationships never work. Believe me, I know." 

Nine months later, Lindsay Boxer wanted Cindy to eat her words. She had known it would be tough. She had known that there would be temptations and problems and a general frustration with committing to someone when there were only two weeks of foundation to build on. 

But she hadn't expected it to be so easy. 

And it was. It was easy because Lindsay didn't feel alone. She missed Pete like crazy, especially the first few months, but back then, it was as if Cindy knew. 

On a particularly lonely night, when Jill was … doing what Jill liked to do and Claire was home with her family, and Lindsay had time to be alone and really think about what that meant, that was when Cindy would show up, with a movie or a pizza or a six pack of beers, offering a walk with Martha or just a smile and conversation. 

It was almost as if by some unspoken deal, Cindy had taken it upon herself to make sure this relationship worked, that Lindsay could be happy because even if Pete was thousands of miles away, Cindy wouldn't let her feel alone. 

Lindsay had never told Cindy how much she appreciated that. 

Deep down, maybe she had considered that Cindy had been a better friend to her than she had been to Cindy. In a casual conversation, Cindy had once joked that Lindsay had shown more concern over Jamie 'fake kidnapping' her than when she was shot in the chest, and the fact that Cindy really believed that bothered her immensely, not just because Cindy thought it was true, but because Lindsay really had no evidence to refute it. 

Jill had been the one to stay with Cindy in the hospital. Jill had been the one who came into the office with updates on Cindy's condition and complained openly to Cindy that she should have been home recovering, not out trying to find Lindsay leads. Lindsay… hadn't. And she had no real excuse for that, other than the simple fact that seeing Cindy bleeding out on the ground had scared her more than anything had, scared her nearly out of mind and to deal with it, Lindsay had to almost pretend it didn't happen. Bury herself in Pete and the case, because the thought of losing Cindy shouldn't have been that frightening. 

There had been too much fear. Too much panic. Too much there when Cindy was lying on the ground, choking on blood and staring blindly into the sky.

There had been some distance, after that. Lindsay found herself with a real coward's need to stay away, because she couldn't process the fear. It was too much. She had already lost so much and all that mattered was that Cindy was okay. She was going to be okay and that was all Lindsay needed to know. To sit in a hospital room and actually relive it would also mean examining WHY it felt like the world had bottomed out on her the minute she realized it was Cindy who had been shot, and she couldn't process that. 

She didn't want to. 

And besides, she thought they had gotten out of it okay. Jill and Cindy got a chance to bond in a way they hadn't previously, and she had gotten Pete, and even though Pete was away, she still had her friendship with Cindy. In some ways, they were closer than ever. It was safe now, with Pete in her heart, to give Cindy a key to her place, and to smile adoringly when an over-eager Martha bowled over Cindy in her excitement at seeing her. 

It was how she got through the months, and now, Lindsay was in the home stretch, ready to prove to the world that love really did conquer all, and she owed a lot of that to Cindy. 

Except Cindy had apparently had enough, and nowadays, that unspoken understanding that Lindsay relied on had dissolved in favor of Cindy and Jill playing some twisted Romy and Michelle game in all the singles bars in San Francisco. Not just the straight ones. The gay ones.

Lindsay didn't know why, but in the face of Jill's 'minime' renovation of Cindy, Lindsay felt an utter loss. She liked Cindy just fine the way she was, had always felt Cindy didn't need to plaster on make up and head to dive bars to meet someone special.

Strangely, in some twisted way, she had gotten it into her head that Cindy wasn't looking for anything more than what she had. 

The fact that she was so obviously wrong proved she didn't know Cindy at all, that even in that, she felt like a failure. 

Lindsay supposed she should have been grateful when Cindy came to see her at all, despite the fact that there now existed a lingering tension in their time alone together.

When Cindy said yes to walking Martha for the first time in forever had been a welcome surprise, and even though she didn't have to, Lindsay had rushed home, getting to the door just in time to see Cindy heading up the driveway with a wagging slobbery Martha, obviously overjoyed to have her friend back. 

Cindy was dressed for going out. Sitting in Lindsay's living room, uncaring of the hair Martha was getting all over her low cut black top and skin tight jeans, fingers rubbing energetically in Martha's mane, making the dog damned near preen, she was sexier than Lindsay had ever remembered her being. 

Cindy laughed, and Lindsay caught her breath, forcing down her stilted smile to bring forward the beer she had promised her friend. 

"Thanks again for taking her out," she said gruffly, holding out the ice cold bottle for Cindy to take. Flushed cheeks and brilliant laughing eyes suddenly glancing up at her, and she suddenly felt choked, breathless. 

"Oh, please," Cindy said, unaware of Lindsay's appreciation, taking the bottle and grinning her sunny smile that always seemed to light up the room. "To be honest, I was glad you called. I've missed this girl!" 

Martha caught the enthusiastic lilt of her voice and jumped in reaction, tail wagging furiously, paws on Cindy's jeans, long tongue lolling out to lick at the rosy cheeks. 

The sight was too sweet for words. 

"I think she's missed you." Hesitating for a moment, Lindsay finally settled down on the sofa with her own bottle, picking at nonexistent lint as she added carefully. "We both have." 

Unfortunately, her admission only resulted in one of those unspoken tensions that hadn't existed before, and intensely aware of her beating heart, Lindsay swallowed hard, kept her gaze on her condensing bottle, picking at the wrinkling label. 

"Sorry about that," Cindy said, an uncomfortable moment later. Lindsay could feel some fidgeting on the other side of the couch. "I know I haven't exactly been around." 

Lindsay gulped down a swallow of the bitter amber liquid. Straightening, she pasted on a polite smile, and forced herself to relax, bringing her knees up between them to allow her to assume a more casual look. They weren’t strangers. "No, it's… I'm glad you're doing that. Going out. I think you should." Cindy's eyes, rimmed with black liner and mascara, never seemed so bright. Lindsay allowed herself to linger on the ruby lips and the pale, generous cleavage Cindy sported. "You look great, by the way." 

Her friend flushed adorably. "Thanks," she heard, before Cindy exhaled raggedly and glanced away, tilting the bottle neck up with her fingertips and allowing the liquid sink into her mouth. "So how's Pete?" 

Pete. Blinking, Lindsay felt suddenly thrown, and didn't understand her confusion until she saw Cindy's expression somewhat more closed than it had been before. 

It bothered her, but she deliberately took another drink, and answered the question. "He's fine." 

"You sure?" Lindsay blinked, and color burned onto Cindy's cheeks before her friend continued quickly, "I just... I haven't heard you talk about him in a while." 

Maybe it's because you haven’t been here, she thought bitterly and immediately cursed herself for it. 

"We've just been busy," she said, more carefully than before. "He's... trying to get his deadline done and before we used to have these scheduled late night calls and... it's been harder to do that. To be honest, we haven't actually spoken for a couple weeks." 

Her eyes lifted, latched onto Cindy's intensely. 

After a moment, Cindy glanced away, breaking the stare. She suddenly put the bottle down. "I need to space these things out," she explained. "Jill can drink me under the table." 

Right. Because Cindy was going out tonight. 

"She can handle her liquor," Lindsay agreed, half embarrassed. "She can outdrink most people." 

"Well, I do okay for a tiny person." Cindy shrugged modestly, but tilted her head adorably. "But I have to admit, I am kinda curious about you." 

Caught under the studious gaze of the light brown eyes, Lindsay felt suddenly self conscious. Her bottled tilted too high, and suddenly she was spurting beer, gulping as she wiped at her mouth. "Excuse me?" 

"Well, you know, I've only seen you do the light stuff. For all your talk about bourbon, I've never actually gotten you drunk." 

If there was an unspoken challenge in that, Lindsay refused to see it. "I think I'm a little old for that, honestly." 

Mouth pressed together in a quiet smile, Cindy shrugged and resumed running her fingers through Martha's mane, allowing the dog to settle against her, front paws across Cindy's lap. 

Lindsay found herself suddenly caught by the subtle beauty of the soft, earnest woman seated before her. It was disconcerting, because she had always thought Cindy attractive, but forced to deal with missing her companion, Lindsay felt as if she was getting slapped in the face with it. Had Cindy always been so beautiful? Probably. Had Lindsay noticed it? Most definitely. 

Had it always made her feel so incredibly helpless and... tight inside? 

"You should still come sometime." 

The invitation caught her by surprise, brought her out of a self imposed daze. Lindsay glanced up, and suddenly laughed uncomfortably. "I think that would seriously cramp Jill's mojo." She could only imagine that glare she would receive from her best friend if she showed up with her surly cop self to interfere with Jill's plan to dominate the singles world with her new Robin at her side. 

Not that watching Jill and Cindy seduce pants and skirts off men and women held much appeal to her to begin with. 

"Aw, please. Just because you're a committed old lady doesn't mean you can't take a night off to party with the youngun's." 

Eyes widening, Lindsay caught sight of a demure glance and a teasing grin hidden behind a beer bottle. She laughed good-naturedly, reaching over to shyly kick at Cindy's jeans. 

"Don't be writing checks your ass can't cash, Minime. I said Jill could outdrink most people, I didn't say she could outdrink me." 

"Sounds like a challenge, Inspector." Cindy's eyes glittered dangerously. "Does that mean you're coming?" 

Settled on her couch, eyes on her gorgeous reporter friend looking so damned comfortable sitting there with her and her dog, Lindsay didn't feel like going anywhere. 

"I've got a better idea," she began hoarsely, reaching forward to place the bottle on the coffee table. "Why don't you just stay?" 

The teasing expression faded. 

Suddenly insecure, Lindsay cleared her throat, and tried again. "I just mean... it's been a while since you and I have had a night to ourselves. Seems as good a time as any." 

"Oh..." Cindy's lips pressed together, and her friend appeared genuinely conflicted. "I don't know, Linds... I kinda promised Jill..." 

Jill. Of course. 

"I just..." Lindsay nearly choked on her earnest attempt to be honest. "I'm just... I get the feeling sometimes that maybe... you're trying to avoid me." Bright, startled eyes immediately swiveled back to her. Cindy looked almost struck. "I just want to make sure nothing's changed." 

"What would have changed?" Cindy never could lie. Her tone was nearly strangled, and disappointment suddenly flooded Lindsay. 

"Cindy... I just miss you. If I've done anything..." 

"No, Lindsay... God, Lindsay..." Cindy's eyes closed, and suddenly her bottle was back in her hands, and pressed against her forehead. 

"Is it the girl thing?" she tried, because Lindsay was suddenly desperate. She had to know, because then maybe she could fix it. And get things back to how they were. Maybe then Cindy wouldn't feel like she had to prove something, and Lindsay could make her stay. "Because... I know Jill knew, but I never would have - I couldn't have-" 

Unconsciously, she reached forward, tried to catch the slender fingers with hers, draw them into her lap. 

Cindy jerked away as if she had burned her. 

The unspoken rejection was brutal. 

"Lindsay..." Cindy's eyes were back on her, but the easy chemistry had dissolved. "I just... it was all me. It was my fault, and I'm just trying to ... fix it." The last words were quiet, as if Cindy suddenly lost steam. 

"Fix what? What's broken?" Again, those brown eyes were wide and frightened, and revealed nothing. Now, Cindy was openly fidgeting, and it was causing Martha to lift her head and whine her complaint.

"I should go-" 

No. An increasing sense of urgency filled her, and there was suddenly nothing more important than making Cindy stay. 

"Look, we don't have to talk about it," Lindsay began, eyes closing as she tried to put aside her frustration, rubbing fingers along her temples. Drawing in a deep breath, she opened her eyes and looked again at her friend. "Just stay. We don't have to have a big conversation just... let's have pizza and... watch a movie and..." Cindy bit her lip, but her posture seemed to soften, and Lindsay's heart fluttered wildly in hope. "... no pressure. God knows I suck at talking too." 

Seeing Cindy's hesitant smile, the semi-unconscious way she seemed to stall, was the best thing in the world. 

Until the distinct rasp of a key in a lock forced them both to glance toward her door, and Lindsay went breathless at the sudden very real, very gorgeous image of a man entering her living room, wearing a smile and carrying a duffel bag. 

He discovered them both on the couch, and his eyes crinkled with a happy grin. 

"Surprise," Pete said. 

\-- 

She was the ultimate idiot. 

God, it was fucking HOPELESS.

Drifting into the club, Cindy searched the crowd immediately for a cropped blonde cut, and found what she was looking for, in the shape of a beautiful friend settled neatly against the bar, twirling a toothpick laded with olives through her dry martini. 

Her chest tight with unshed emotion, Cindy didn't bother with niceties as she pushed her way through the crowded dancefloor, eyes on Jill like she was a buoy in a fierce rickety storm. 

"You're late," Jill said flatly, when Cindy finally settled in beside her, raising an index finger and motioning for the bartender. "Work?" 

"I wish," she breathed, and slid heartbroken eyes to her friend. "I really, really need to get drunk tonight." 

Upon seeing her expression, Jill immediately lost her cavalier attitude. "What's wrong?" 

"I'm a fucking idiot, that's what's wrong." The bartender finally reached her, and she immediately asked for a Grey Goose Cosmopolitan. 

"Cindy." Jill's fingers immediately grabbed hold of hers, forcing her attention back to Jill's concerned blue eyes. "What happened?" 

God, if she even thought about it, she would cry. Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered but losing herself in a damned Cosmo and possibly some woman's body. 

"You were right. That's what happened. I’m just... I'm an idiot." 

"Okay, sure. But why?" 

"I went to Lindsay's." 

Jill's breath caught, and her friend's eyes darkened considerably. "Cindy..." 

"I know! I'm an idiot. She asked me to walk her dog, and I was so damned desperate to see her I did it. And I missed that dog." Cindy's fingers buried in her hair, and she glanced again at Jill, who only looked at her. "She asked me to stay. Said she missed me and wanted me to stay and I almost said yes." 

There were a million things Jill could have said, but her friend simply reached forward and slid her fingers into Cindy's mane, gently massaging at her neck, squeezing her fingers calmly. "Okay," she said smoothly. "Then what happened?" 

"Then FUCKING Pete walks in the door." Cindy's heart nearly splintered again, and hated herself for it. "Says he missed her and wanted to surprise her and he's right there, in her living room, and it just... I'm SUCH an idiot, you know? I knew this was coming, and I still... God-dammit, where is that Cosmo?" 

"Cindy." Jill's eyes were too moist, and Cindy hated it. Softly, Jill came in closer, looked so damned concerned. "Do you want us to get out of here?" 

Cindy blinked, suddenly offended. "No! We're staying, okay? And I'm going to drink and then I’m going to find some hot guy or hot girl and screw the hell out of them and you're going to help me? Because that's what I need right now. That's who I am. That's who I need to be." 

"Cindy." 

"Jill." 

Maybe she had frightened her, she wasn't sure, but there was only ultimate relief when Jill blinked back her emotion and forced a smile on her face, obviously for her benefit. "Okay," Jill agreed, voice raspier than usual. "Okay." 

Pulling out her vodka soaked toothpick, Jill let the olive linger on Cindy's lips. Closing her eyes, Cindy closed her teeth around the olive and then turned her head, pressing her lips fiercely against Jill's, mingling her taste with that of the bitter olive. 

When they pulled away, Jill's forehead rested gently against her temple, and with a small smile, she kept her hand around the back of Cindy's neck, allowing the moment of intimacy in an establishment full of strangers. "Let's help you forget."


	4. Chapter 4

**Part Four**

The night before, Lindsay had been struck speechless, unable to really absorb the fact that it really was Pete standing in her living room. She hadn't been ready for him, hadn't expected him, and Lindsay as a whole, hated surprises. 

It had to do with an element of control, and the people that knew her, really knew her, knew better than to take that away from her. It was thanks to Jill that Tom had been talked out of a surprise party for her thirty-fifth. 

Consequently, the hope that had bolstered her spirits and lingered on a precipice of genuine happiness at the idea of a night alone with Cindy Thomas dashed fast and furious when Lindsay, mind blown, could only stare dumbly as Pete began an eloquent speech about surprising her and Cindy jolted to her feet and stammered something to Pete, and without another look at her, simply left her. 

Unable to really switch gears, Lindsay appeared thunderstruck, unsure what to do with the automatic instinct to push past Pete and grab hold of Cindy, keep her from bolting. 

She was already on her feet when she heard through her sudden panic, "You don't look that thrilled to see me." 

It was that sentence, and the insecurity behind it, that had knocked Lindsay out of her haze.

Breathless, she jerked her head and discovered Pete, and at that look on his face, a face she hadn't seen in months, she tore her brown eyes from the slamming wooden door and managed as much of a smile as she could. 

"Sorry," she mumbled, and said it louder, quicker, when she didn't even convince herself. "Oh, God, Sorry. I just… I didn't…" Mouth snapping shut, tears stung suddenly in her eyes, and gratefully, she slid long arms around his firm, familiar body. "Hi," she whispered. 

"Hi." He gathered her close, and it really was Pete. Fingers curling into short dirty blonde locks, Lindsay felt his heart beating furiously against her chest, and still, unable to help herself, she glanced at the door. 

The devastation at losing the first true chance of connecting with Cindy in weeks warred with any relief at being in Pete's arms, and unexpectedly, she felt a surge of inappropriate anger, directed, oddly, at her lover. 

Catching it, catching herself, she swallowed it down, and when Pete pulled back and smiled at her, cupping her face with large, masculine hands, Lindsay blinked the tears in her eyes away, and did her very best to smile back. 

Late that night, while Pete slept comfortably in her large bed, and Lindsay felt inexplicably crowded, she pulled on a shirt and crept downstairs, reaching her phone and shakily dialing Jill's number. 

She needed her best friend. She needed to hear her own words out loud, to listen to Jill and try and make sense of what was happening to her, why on earth she suddenly felt so … trapped and conflicted and why it was so god-damned devastating when Cindy walked out that door. 

The phone rang, and Lindsay's heart sunk when all she got was Jill's voicemail. 

A moment of contemplation and then she was shakily dialing Cindy. 

More of the same. 

\--

Awake, hung over and … oddly numb, Cindy thanked goodness for small favors when she ducked into Claire's office and discovered the Medical Examiner sitting in her office alone. 

Shoulder pressing against the door, Cindy smiled when the other woman glanced up. "Hey." 

"Hey yourself," Claire said, dropping the reports she had been perusing and slipping off her glasses. "Do you know any qualified autopsy technicians I could hire? Because I might murder mine." 

The aggravated tone amused her. "Sorry," she said, pulling her purse off her shoulder and settling into the chair opposite the desk. 

"Worth a shot." Claire crossed her arms. "Thanks for coming." 

"Oh, you know me." Cindy dug into her purse for her notepad and pen. "I'm all about the story." Her head throbbed in complaint, and she grimaced. "Even if I do need an Advil or ten." 

Always a doctor, Claire immediately dug into her desk and flipped her a small packet of the required medication. "You okay?" 

The sudden inspection of her pale, drawn face caused a sinking worry, but Cindy's smile, though strained, stayed on her face. "Just a little hung over. I think whatever game we're playing, Jill's winning." 

"She usually does." Claire didn’t seem overtly convinced by the cavalier attitude, but at the very least, her friend didn't press.

"Who usually does what?" 

The breathless voice, coming up behind her, caused an unintentional catch of her breath, her eyes fluttering shut in a very physical wince. 

Thankfully, her back was to the entering Lindsay, and she didn’t catch it. One look at Claire, however, proved that she did. 

Eyes connecting with Claire's, Cindy blanched at the sudden dark, concerned expression on Claire's face. Inhaling sharply, she did her best to shake her head minutely, fingers gripping the edges of the chair in a silent plea to her friend. 

It was a horrible moment, until Claire swiveled her glance away from her face and smiled up at the woman behind her. "Jill," she said, in a voice that was so deceptively casual, Cindy could have just imagined their unspoken conversation. "She wins at life." 

"Ah." God, how the hell did even just the presence of Lindsay make her feel like an unrelenting fool? Mind dizzy, head swimming, Cindy chose to focus on breathing, suddenly intensely aware of Lindsay's eyes on her. Heatedly, she forced herself to turn her head, and yeah, there she was, looking beautiful and haunted, and something else, staring straight at her. "Jill does do a fantastic job at winning." 

A moment of bitterness overtook her, and Cindy glanced away, sure she had misinterpreted the questionable expression, because honestly, what did Lindsay have to be haunted about? 

"I'm surprised to see you here," she began, too lightly, trying too hard. Gulping, she forced another breath and this time, her smile was easier. "I thought you'd still be in bed with Pete." 

Color tinted Lindsay's cheeks. Cindy had embarrassed her. It was almost thrilling. In a sadistic kind of way. 

"In bed? With Pete? What are you talking about?" 

Arching a brow, Cindy waited for Lindsay to explain. The other woman looked hesitant, shy, and she glanced again to Cindy before wiping her palms on the front of her jeans, stating simply, "Pete surprised me last night. Flew in for a couple days." 

"Wow. That's impossibly sweet." Claire had the appropriate response of happiness for her friend. Biting her lip, Cindy decided to take her cue. 

"Exactly," she said airily. "So watcha doin' here, Linz? Shouldn't you still be in bed, getting reacquainted?" 

Again, those dark eyes looked at her, and God-dammit, why the hell wouldn't Lindsay just look away? 

Finally, Lindsay did, and Cindy took the moment gratefully, 

"I had work," the other woman responded simply, crossing her arms. 

Claire frowned, and in a flash of objectivity, Cindy did think it was slightly odd, the way Lindsay appeared … disenchanted with the whole idea of her boyfriend flying in, but … maybe it was just the shock. 

The sound of a ringing phone pierced the sudden quiet, cutting off any words of concern Claire might have had. One look at the caller ID, and Claire signaled she had to take it. 

A warm hand settled on her shoulder, and Cindy bit her lip, glancing up to discover Lindsay cocking her head toward the morgue. 

"We'll wait outside." 

With a stale smile, she rose shakily to her feed, and followed the taller Inspector. 

She leaned against the closed door, eyes on the floor like a scolded child, intensely aware of Lindsay's thoughtful stare burning into her. 

Unsure if she wanted to hear what Lindsay was preparing to say to her, she thought quickly, and arched a flippant brow, red bangs jerking up to catch Lindsay with a curious smile. "So, have fun last night?" 

Again, Lindsay did not portray the giddiness Cindy wanted to see. Not because the giddiness wouldn't hurt, but at least it would have put things firmly in their place, because Lindsay was a woman in love and Pete had just come into town, and they SHOULD have spent all night screwing each other senseless. 

God knew Cindy had been battling those images all night. 

"You didn't have to go you know." 

The statement, careful and quiet, caused a harsh, bitter choke. Leave it to Lindsay to try and be considerate in the most stupid ways. "Uh, yeah, Lindsay, I did. Your boyfriend of six months had just flown thousands of miles to be with you. Believe me, I had to go." Lindsay's mouth tightened, and Cindy felt a flush of sudden shame at her irritable mood. "How is he?" she asked politely. 

"He's good," Lindsay said, after a moment, brown eyes once again catching with hers. Breathing in through her mouth, Cindy instinctively glanced away, down at Lindsay's left boot, heel grinding at the floor. "He's only here a couple of days…" The boot kept grinding. "Listen, maybe we could try again when he leaves, you know… a pizza night or something - I hate that it got cut short…" 

God-dammit. Smile frozen, Cindy's mouth opened, but no sound came out. Clearing her throat, she tried again. "No worries. It's understandable."

"But it shouldn't… you shouldn't have had to…" Lindsay now was openly fidgeting, and after a horrible moment, it occurred to Cindy that her uncharacteristically awkward friend was actually feeling GUILTY. 

God. Was she that transparent? 

"Seriously, don't worry about it," she said, too fast. 

"I don’t want you to think I'm that person, Cindy." 

That person? Cindy's brow furrowed with confusion. "What person?" 

"The person who blows over her friends to be with her boyfriend." 

An unwilling, bitter smile twitched across her lips, and Cindy tried to force it away. "Lindsay, I don't think that. Pete coming to town? That's a huge deal." Lindsay glanced away, blowing out a frustrated breath. In that action, Cindy was flooded by a flash of tenderness, because God… how could Lindsay be so beautiful and strong and still so vulnerably insecure? "It means he still cares," she added gently. "A lot." 

It was meant to reassure Lindsay, but her friend looked anything but comforted. White teeth gnawed on her still lower lip, and breath catching, Cindy found herself following the movement. 

"Maybe," Lindsay acknowledged finally. "You know… I don't think he and I would have made it these past few months, if it wasn't for you?" 

Oh, the god-damned irony. "What do you mean?" 

"I just mean… you were there for me. When I felt lonely… I never felt lonely. Because of you." 

Figures it would be now, freshly fucked and aglow with Pete's love, Lindsay would feel so damned generous. 

"Don’t sweat it," she said tersely. "Any friend would do that same." 

"You're not just any friend. What I said before… I still miss you, Cindy." 

God-dammit. The words did their work, working down into her belly and filling her with an unwilling warmth, making her want to hope… and that was ridiculous. And idiotic, and she had nearly come to terms with that, the night before. Nearly burned every bridge, nearly barreled headlong into promiscuity and stupidity in an effort to make herself realize that, and it wasn't FAIR that Lindsay could do that to her. 

Not after all this time. Not after everything she knew. 

"I'm right here," she said flatly. 

Lindsay didn't look like she believed her. Then again, Lindsay always did have that way about her; one look and it was as if she could see into her very soul. Damned cliché, and Cindy hadn't believed in those; not in love at first sight, not in the weak-kneed feelings, until she glanced over her cubicle a long while ago and stared straight at the most frustratingly beautiful woman on the planet. 

Who at the moment was unraveling her, bit by bit, not even knowingly. 

"I really… really hated that you had to leave last night." Lindsay laughed dryly, and the sound, vibrating down her spine, caused an unwilling shudder, as Lindsay once again kicked at the floor and leaned into the door, until a leather clad shoulder brushed into hers. "Did you ever think we'd get to here?" 

Quietly, she shrugged. "Where's here?" 

Brown orbs twinkled at her, full of depth and warmth and affection. "A year and a half ago, I never would have imagined that one of my best friends would be that nosy little reporter from the Register." 

Her voice was raspy, sentimental. 

Cindy couldn't not ask. "And now?" 

Quietly, Lindsay studied her, and then Cindy went breathless when a finger lifted up, and ever so gently, the back of pointed digit slid gently along her cheek. The contact caused a jolt, and Cindy swallowed hard, forcing an audible inhalation through her nose. 

Lindsay's thin lips parted, smile tender, and her touch lingered. "I guess I can't imagine not seeing you every day." 

Holy fuck. 

The panic rose like bile, and Cindy twitched, head falling back to bang hard against the flat surface of Claire's door. Her headache, previously reduced to a dim throb, resurfaced with an angry hiss, and Cindy growled, rubbing the tender spot on her head numbly. 

"Are you okay?" Lindsay was now deeply in her personal space, and it was.NOT.FAIR. Her heartbeat only quickened, and breathing through her nose wasn't helping because she was openly panting, and a wiry, lean body leaned into her side, fingertips tilting up her heated cheeks, inspecting the damage. 

"Just a headache," she managed raggedly, shutting her eyes to avoid staring into deep brown eyes inches from her own. 

Lindsay blew out a breath, and she felt the wisp of it skim across her cheeks, her lips. 

"You don't look so good." 

Lindsay wouldn't stop touching her. Dark eyes flew open, took in the concerned expression, that look she had seen too often on Lindsay because the good Inspector was a control freak who liked to tell her when she could and couldn't get herself in danger for the noble cause. But this… this was more tender than before, and heart beating wildly, Cindy couldn't calm her increasing distress, because Lindsay was just too damned close, and her body hummed with the knowledge. "It was a late night," she choked. 

Carefully, gently, Lindsay tilted up her chin, until suddenly Cindy's lips felt parched. Her tongue darted out in reflex, moistening her bottom lip, and her knees nearly buckled when she realized just how intensely Lindsay followed the movement. 

A door clicked open, and thankful for the distraction, Cindy blinked at the sight of Jill stepping into the morgue, cat eyes taking in the uncomfortable image of the two of them leaning against the door. 

"Claire's on the phone," Cindy said helpfully, voice cracking unintentionally. 

Her friend only kept looking at her, and once again, Cindy felt a flush of shame, as the other woman studied her head to toe, before her jaw tightened, and her attention went to Lindsay, who was now leaning away. 

"What are you doing here?" she asked, heels clacking against the hard floor as she crossed the room, slender fingers slipping into her pockets, voice deceptively casual. "I thought Pete wouldn't have let you leave the house!" 

A tender ache jolted inside of her, but the statement was so very Jill, and it felt good to lock glances with the other woman and smile. 

Lindsay, however, did not look so congenial. Her mouth twitched expressively, because Lindsay Boxer did not like being teased. 

"I had work," she said, voice like flint. 

"You know Lindsay," Cindy said, with forced easiness. "She's all about the job." 

"Right, just because you two can't seem to figure out where to draw the line." Lindsay's arms crossed, and there was now genuine irritation in her voice. "What'd you two do last night? Paint the town red?" 

"Yellow," Cindy quipped. "With polka dots." 

Jill grinned, the smile effortless and lighting up her features. "And Cindy went home with quite the bombshell." 

The easy inference made Cindy's heart pound suddenly, and she quickly jerked her glance to Jill, discovered the other woman watching her thoughtfully. 

"You went home with someone?" 

No, God-Damnit. Lindsay Boxer did NOT sound disappointed. That wasn't FAIR. 

Jill kept eyeing her, brow lifting almost as if in challenge. 

"Oh yeah," she managed, with more lightness than she felt. "She was totally hot. Blonde. Successful." 

Across from her, Jill's smile only widened with the compliments, and for that, Cindy at least, was thankful. The moment was universally awkward, and it shouldn't have been, but it was, and still, Jill seemed to maintain a sense of humor about what had happened the night before. 

What little Cindy could remember of it. 

"Hell of a kisser," Jill added, looking smug and gorgeous. "Or so I'm told." 

Suddenly, she was hauntingly aware of Lindsay inhaling sharply. From the way her eyes swiveled from Jill to Cindy, it was clear she had caught the thankful, intimate smile Cindy sent to Jill, and interpreted with lightning speed. 

Because Lindsay Boxer was a damned good Inspector. 

"You two went home together?" 

Before either could answer, the door flew open, and Claire immediately beckoned. "Sorry, sorry," The other woman said hurriedly. "It went long. Come in, I've got something you'll all want to see." 

Despite the fact that she continued the game, Cindy's heart suddenly flared, and then she couldn't take it. Losing the battle within herself not to bolt, Cindy found herself suddenly pushing past Jill, heading backwards and stumbling into a table, wincing and moving around it. "You know? I actually... I have a deadline. I need to go. Jill can catch me up later, okay?" 

Unwilling to look anyone in the eye, Cindy swiveled, and didn't wait for Claire's sputtering confused 'What?' before she was out the door. 

\-- 

"You slept with her?!" 

The outburst erupted before she could stop it, and when it came, harsh and angry, Lindsay discovered she didn't want to stop it. In the wake of Cindy's escape, Jill had simply stared after the reporter and then looked at her, and fuck if Lindsay didn't recognize that look on her best friend. 

Challenging. Ruthless. 

What the hell was she doing?

"Wait," she heard Claire yelp, past the blood rushing in her ears. "You slept with Cindy?!" 

And still, Jill didn't speak. The expression in those light blue eyes seemed almost cold, and it dug a knife in her, twisted inside of her, and made her want to punch a wall. 

"Jill," she rasped, hands balling into fists, heat rushing to her cheeks.

Jill just continued to look at her with that same expression, like she was a perp on a witness stand, and Jill was simply trying to feel her out. 

It made her absolutely livid. 

"Did you take Cindy home?" Claire inquired, sounding less upset and more curious. 

Jill's eyes never left hers when she finally exhaled through her nose, and answered Claire. "Yes, I took Cindy home last night." 

"God-dammit." The word exploded from her before she could stop it, and Jill again shook her head minutely. 

"Lindsay…" Claire's hands were already on her bicep, wrapping around her arm, a misguided attempt to calm her. "They're adults." 

"Bullshit, Claire," she snapped, thrown and confused and devastated and what-the-fuck was Jill doing sleeping with Cindy? "What the hell were you doing?" 

The demand did its work. Jill's face actually paled, and suddenly the eyes glittered. "What the hell was I doing?" she repeated. "She was drunk and in no position to drive. I didn't want to let her go home with anyone else like that and she was determined to go home with someone. I was being a FRIEND, Lindsay. That's what I was doing. But wait, I don't know if you remember what that means." 

"Girls," Claire began, obviously worried. 

"No, Claire," Jill snapped, and Lindsay frowned, furious but quiet, needing to hear Jill out. "If she has a right to get a bug up her ass about Cindy and me then I have a right to call her on this. You're my best friend, Lindsay, and I love you, but treating Cindy like some kind of god-damned platonic girlfriend with a chastity belt makes you kind of a shit."

She gasped, the pain thudding hard into her chest, an almost physical blow against her ribs. "Jill-" 

"That's what she thinks," Jill snapped, voice hard and unyielding. "But what the hell would you know about it? Nothing, because as much as you think I'm the dick for taking her out and trying to make her FORGET you, I'm the one that's at least TRYING." 

The statement rattled her brain, and Lindsay was suddenly choking, trying so hard to understand what it was that Jill was telling her, because it sounded like… it sounded like… 

"No," she managed, voice gruff and repentant. "I would have known-" 

"How?" Jill snapped. "God, how would you have known? Up until a few weeks ago you didn't even know she liked girls." The statement was tinged in disbelief, and Jill's head rolled back, eyes floating up the ceiling, posture stiff with frustration. 

"Okay…" As Lindsay's mind spun, Claire ventured forward, easing her way in between them both. "It sounds like there are some issues we need to discuss, but right now, is not the time or the place. Both of you need to calm down." 

Wild eyes ventured from Claire, to Jill, and still, Lindsay's throat was raw, painful with the unshed emotion lodged in her throat. "You knew she liked me." 

Jill's head snapped down, and once again she was treated to a glare the likes of which she hadn't seen from her best friend. "I didn't sleep with her, Lindsay," Jill said dryly. "If that's what you're fishing for. Believe it or not, I do have enough self awareness and respect for myself and Cindy not to sleep with a hurting friend who so obviously wants my best friend. And yes, I knew. She told me, late night one night in a hospital when I was the only one who stayed, and you were busy getting laid." 

The pain came so fast, so hard, she winced as if she had been struck, and she had been. She just been verbally bitchslapped, courtesy of Jill Bernhardt, ADA. 

Maybe Jill had seen the expression on her face, because the other woman suddenly glanced away, looked regretful, softened even. 

"Don’t get me wrong," Lindsay heard, battling the stinging in her eyes. "I'm happy for you and Pete. Really, Linds. And it's not your fault, if you can't love Cindy the way she wants you to. It happens. But for the love of God, for the sake of your friendship, and everyone's peace of mind, namely MINE, have the balls to let her go. Don't confuse her. Don't cling to her. Just let her accept that it won't happen and let her move on. Be a friend." 

Claire tried to speak, but Jill only shook her head, obviously upset, and turned away, heading out of the morgue as quickly as she came in.


	5. Chapter 5

**Part Five**

She was heaving, literally inhaling sharp, deep breaths that penetrated her like knives, rushing oxygen to her brain and still, still she was uncharacteristically mute. 

"Lindsay." 

Claire sounded distant, foggy, and the moisture that stung in her eyes made the vision of her friend blurry. The pressure on her arms alerted her to some movement, but it wasn't until the sound of a door rattling on its hinges caused an involuntary jump, did Lindsay realize that her friend had dragged her into the office. 

"Lindsay," Claire said again, and despite the rapid beating of her heart, Lindsay finally seemed to see her, blinking away what tears she could and once again staring at the door. 

Jill's eyes had been dark and furious. She had been cutting and cruel, and she had told her - blatantly, honestly, that Cindy wanted her. Cindy wanted her. 

The breathing came fast again, chest rising and falling, and her mind swam, because it just… it didn’t compute. It… 

"Lindsay!" The voice was a shout now, and Lindsay blinked again, breathing in hard through her nose and finally forced herself to see Claire, almost grateful for the concerned brown eyes blazing into her, because it gave her somewhere to focus. "Snap out of it." 

"Sorry," she choked, and shook her head, as if trying to shake loose the images, make them fit together in the perfect puzzle of how she had imagined things were. "I just… " 

"I know. That was a hell of a tirade with a lot of previously unknown information." Claire's hands were still on her arms, but her voice was purposely smooth. "And it looks like you need to process it. Sit down." 

Like a dog being led on a leash, Lindsay found herself uncharacteristically pliable, allowed herself to sink gratefully into Claire's chair. 

Cindy… Cindy…

Her eyes shut automatically, head ducking down to meet slender fingers, digits digging into her dark curls as suddenly the image of the woman leaning against the wall overtook her, heated body soft against her, lips moist and utterly intoxicating. 

In that moment, not even understanding what it was she was feeling, Lindsay had known she wanted her. She had been entranced, besotted, overtaken at the sensation of soft skin underneath her fingertips, and bright, wide brown eyes. What had started out as a fumbling apology had become a near assault, and it was Jill and her brusque entrance that had taken a bucket of cold water, dumped it over her, sending the deepest chill down her spine. 

A comforting palm seeped warmth through the leather draped over her back, and even though Lindsay's heart continued to pound, willing her to panic, she found herself able to close her mouth, keep herself from panting. 

"Did you know?" 

The question was asked quietly, and the response was just as careful, if not a little delayed. "No," Claire finally said, and Lindsay believed her. "I mean, when I first met Cindy I had a hunch…" Lindsay's palms came down, and she glanced up beseechingly. Claire's mouth turned downward and her shoulders came up, indicating a half shrug. "But so much time had past and I just attributed it to a little hero worship she got over." 

"So only Jill knew," Lindsay breathed voice scratchy and low. And Jill found out the day that she stayed in that hospital, when Cindy woke up from her surgery and Lindsay had been simultaneously relieved and terrified, looking down at a pale face and a sweet smile and afraid of her own reactions, had remembered a date that she had been early for. With Pete. 

Oh, God, Pete. 

"Sounds like it." Claire leaned against the desk, arms folded across her chest, watching her carefully. "So what are you gonna do?" 

Head jerking up, a wave of sudden fear jerked into Lindsay, stomach dropping within her when she noticed the careful, thoughtful stare Claire was now directing down at her. 

"I… I don't - Claire," she stammered, face flaming and head bobbing. "I just… I just found out-" 

"Is Jill right?" Again, the tone was smooth, unrelenting. "Have you been confusing her? Clinging to Cindy?" 

The automatic response was to shake her head; vehemently. But her thoughts caught up with her, betrayed her with a sudden image of the night before, and the way Cindy had jerked away from her touch, tried so desperately to leave her when all Lindsay wanted to do was make her stay. 

Her resulting smile was too painful to be sheepish. "I… think my outburst out there kind of speaks for itself." 

"Hmm." Claire eased off the desk, shuffling her feet and resettled herself. "So again, what are you going to do?" Lindsay could only stare helplessly, still absurdly lost, mind blown by just the knowledge that Cindy… that Cindy wanted her. More than wanted her. "May I make a suggestion?" she continued tenderly.

Her nod was a small, beseeching movement. 

"I vote we don't tell Cindy that we know. Judging by her quick exit and the anguished look she gave me while you walked in here earlier, she's having enough trouble dealing with this situation, and Pete dropping suddenly back in town has probably made it worse." 

The name of her boyfriend made the lump in her throat suddenly gigantic, and the resulting swallow was painful. 

"So… you take Jill's advice. Let her move on. Give her some space. Try to bridge this… gap between you as a friendship. Nothing more." 

Logically, her friend's sage advice made so much sense. And yet, just listening to it, hearing what she should do with the knowledge of Cindy's feelings, sunk her heart deep down in her stomach, left her with a feeling that smacked of pure devastation and agony and a loss of something she had buried inside of her.

Her lids lowered to the floor, and she heard Claire's sharp inhalation. "You don't want to let her move on. Oh, Linds…" There was so much pity, speckled with frustration in Claire's breathless sigh, before the arms unfolded and she moved around the desk, now reduced to pacing. "Have you forgotten about Pete?" Claire snapped, head whirling to pin her with a sharp gaze. "The boyfriend you've had for the last eight months. The one that just flew home thousands of miles to be with you?" 

Fingers came up to unsteadily thread through her bangs, slip them behind her ear. Underneath her jacket, she felt hot. Her gun, pinned awkwardly against the wooden chair, dug into her hip, nearly bruising her skin. 

"No," she said, uncharacteristically soft. "No, I haven't forgotten about Pete." But it was Cindy she was thinking about now, searching deeply in her mind for any smile, any unspoken conversation that could have alerted her before. All that flashed in her thoughts was a single memory: a young woman settled against a couch, so comfortable, like it was hers, one hand on the head of a dog that adored her, the lights of the television playing off the angles of her face. There had been something funny on, at least something that had amused Cindy, because suddenly her mouth pulled into a brilliant smile, and those brown eyes flashed at her, plucking a kernel of corn from the bowl sitting between them and flinging it playfully in her direction. That moment, so irrelevant, became suddenly momentous for Lindsay, because she distinctly remembered her heart swelling in reaction, unable to keep an eye on the television because she was so distracted by the simple beauty that was Cindy just…existing. Right there. On her couch. Like she belonged there. 

Three months after that, last night Pete sat on the couch in a similar position, on Cindy's corner, hand on Martha's rump. But he was in Cindy's corner, in Cindy's spot, and … it didn't fit. That the large, masculine body settled into that spot like it was his was infuriating, and Lindsay had been both miserable and confused, because it was Pete, and he was finally here, and all she could absorb was that he was sitting in Cindy's place on her couch. 

Hands trembling, she pressed her palm to her mouth, an aching truth suddenly readily apparent. "Claire," she rasped, and glanced up, frightened. "What if…" her throat hitched, and she glanced down at her hands again, feeling like a coward. "What if I want her too?" 

Claire let that settle; let the question hang in the air on its own, testing Lindsay's resolve. After a brutal moment of those dark eyes fixated seriously on her, her friend seemed to finally take pity, arms once again crossing herself and stepping toward her to resume her place on the desk, directly in front of her. 

"Then you have a lot of explaining to do," she began calmly, carefully. "Starting with being honest about what you're feeling. To Pete. To Jill. And to Cindy. And Lindsay," Claire continued, unwilling to let her look away. "Just understand, it might be too late." Lindsay blinked, unsure what to do. "From the sounds of it, Cindy was ready to give up on you. She was ready to move on. And Jill was more than willing to help her get there." 

\--

Based on what had transpired, and how she had reacted to it, there was really only one option for Cindy Thomas: work. 

Work as if her very sanity depended on it, and her overactive mind took to the idea gladly, desperate for something else to focus on. As if she were afraid to linger for even a minute on the events that had caused her to flee from Claire's office for fear that even half a second of contemplation of the arguably besotted expression on Lindsay's face or the tightened disappointment on Jill's would cause a cascade of emotion that she could not afford to let loose. 

Of course, the problem with that was that her sources, at least the ones she needed for her current murder story, were also her friends, and the very people she had fled from. 

Breathing out audibly, venting her frustration in a rush of air, Cindy's palm slid from her forehead and over her cheek, staring at the blinking cursor on the screen. 

Removing her glasses, she closed her eyes, shutting out the world for a precious moment. 

At least the nausea had died down, and her head ache only simmered, deciding that maybe she had been through enough today and boiling her brain wasn't necessary. 

Maybe it was time to get new sources. Sources she had never made out with or drunkenly propositioned. Sources she didn't want to sleep with. Sources that didn't cause her knees to buckle or pressed her up against doors. That was a good idea. Good reliable police informants that didn't make her breathless and slackjawed or cause her to bumble like an idiot. 

What a concept.

Cindy would wager good money Diane Sawyer never had to deal with any of this. 

"Thomas." 

Her name, said like a bark by a heavyset man with an ill-kept beard who loomed at her over her cubicle, startled her so much that her small coffee mug neatly stacked with pens and pencils jerked over, spilling the contents over her lap and onto the floor. 

Her editor didn't wait for her to clean it up. "Cruz's story isn't ready yet. I’m going to put the bus stop murder on the front page. Have to me in an hour." 

"You want it in an hour?" She was fairly certain she squeaked, and that never worked with him. 

"You heard me," he said, and pointed a pudgy finger in her direction. "And I want it to be good. Don't half ass it." 

She never did. Of course, she hadn't previously left her source under the impression that she had gone home and slept with her best friend. Not that the truth was any more glamorous. Cindy distinctly remembered much more of Jill's toilet than any other part of her friend's swanky luxury condo.

"An hour, Thomas!" The voice floated down the hallway, and Cindy felt the knot in her stomach grow exponentially larger. Teeth sinking worriedly into her bottom lip, Cindy slipped on her glasses and stared hard at the phone. 

She had at least seven missed calls, all ignored. Cindy had a pretty good guess as to which three of her sources had called so diligently. But God help her, she did NOT want to check the Caller ID or the call log. 

It was a coward's way out, but at the very least, dialing Claire, Cindy knew she was dialing a friend. There was no fuzziness, and she had never made out with Claire, or never wanted to make out with Claire. 

Not that Claire wasn't hot but... yeah. 

Chest expanding with a soldering breath, Cindy nimbly scrolled through the available 'recently called' numbers and quickly chose the appropriate line, clicking 'send' and positioning the Bluetooth headset over her ear. 

One ring. Two. A click and then a familiar, "Cindy?" 

She swallowed, and began with a ragged, "Hi..." 

"Thank God." She heard shuffling, the shutting of a door. "It's about time you called. I've been worried sick." 

"I'm fine," she said, determined not to sound as weak as she felt. "Listen... about before..." 

There was a pause. Not the greatest sign. "Right." 

"I will explain it to you, I promise," she began, because Claire deserved that much. "But I've just had my deadline pushed and I really need the information you were going to give me this morning. Do you think maybe we can just pretend this morning didn’t happen and maybe you can catch me up?" 

It was a lot to ask, in the wake of how she left things. She was sure, judging by Lindsay's startled expression and Jill's determination to bring the night before up and apply a lewd variation to it, that SOME sort of explanation had happened, and God, Cindy did NOT want to know what was said.

In this instance, the cat was definitely not curious, because she knew damned well that curiosity could kill her. 

"Fine," Claire said, softer than she expected, and Cindy exhaled audibly, suddenly tremendously relieved. "Got a pen?" 

Blinking back her tears, Cindy forced herself to reach for the pens that were still scattered over her desk, uncapping one of her standbys and clearing off her notepad with a sweep of her palm. Taking a moment to wipe at her dribbling nose, Cindy took a moment to try and quiet the noise in her head, and began determinedly, "Yeah." 

"Okay." A whisper of papers, before Claire cleared her throat. "Here we go." 

\--

The bottles clanked underneath her jacket, and Lindsay winced, struggling to keep the movement to a minimum as she bypassed a lawyer and headed to Jill's door. 

Drawing a careful breath, she began a hesitant knock, waiting nearly an eternity before she heard a sharp, "Come in." 

Jill's business voice.

She wished valiantly for her characteristic stubborn stupidity. The kind that had her flinging herself into situations with just a vest and a gun, bullets whizzing by and punches digging into soft guts of men who weighed at least hundred more pounds than her. The kind that utterly failed her when confronted with any situations that forced her to strip off the Kevlar and deal with simply her own, screwed up emotions. 

The sound of Denise's tell-tale clacks fluttering down the hallway tightened her resolve. 

Palm wrapping around the knob, she turned the handle and jerked inside. 

Eyes floating up, Jill paused, fingers drifting to scratch idly under her collar, sending her a cool stare. 

Tense, embarrassed, Lindsay could only shut the door closed with her rump, and transfer her jacket to her other hand, revealing her gift. 

Ice blue orbs floated down to the six pack of bottles, then back up to Lindsay's apologetic expression. 

"You know, if Denise catches me in here drinking during work hours, she'll have my ass." 

In response, Lindsay fumbled behind her and locked the door. "I'm sorry." 

The emotional rasp was sincere, but Jill still made her wait, regarding her with that glare that told Lindsay she was not at all over her outburst from that morning. 

She waited her out. She owed her that much. 

She saw a visible swallow, and suddenly Jill seemed to give up, closing her eyes, shoulders slumping, and waving a manicured finger in her direction, giving her permission. 

Unable to hide the relieved smile that immediately stretched across her mouth, Lindsay forgot about the clanking, coming forward fast to deposit her gift on Jill's immaculate desk. 

Fingers occupied by a pencil twirling in between them, Jill studied the present. "Imported," she said finally. "The good stuff." 

"I owe you a lot more than that." 

Jill exhaled violently through her nose, glancing up from the beers to connect again with Lindsay's emotional orbs. 

"I don't think it's me that you should be apologizing to," she said simply. 

An unexpected throb hit her at the insinuation, and Jill must have caught it, because she glanced away. "Yeah well… she's next." Lindsay smiled tightly. "And she's not taking my calls." 

At that, a bittersweet smile floated onto her friend's face, and her palm went up to her hair, sweeping down her cropped bangs in a distracted, nervous gesture. "Yeah, she's not taking mine either." 

She glanced at the bottles, and immediately, Lindsay reached for a cold beer, pulling it out of the cardboard carton and with the bottle opener taken from her jeans pocket, popping the top. "Claire heard from her," she found herself saying, handing it over. "She said she had a deadline and needed the information Claire had this morning. Claire thinks she's… okay, I guess." 

Jill betrayed her own emotion when she took a large gulp of the amber liquid, grimacing as a result. "Yeah, well," she began, wiping her mouth. "I certainly didn't help at all, letting loose like a faucet. She's going to kill me." 

Lindsay unexpectedly jerked, spilling some her now open beer on the rug, but one look at Jill told her the other woman was mildly amused at the awkward state of things. 

"Did you ever think we'd be here, having the worst fight we've had in years, over Cindy Thomas?" 

All things considered, it was kind of mind blowing. Across the desk, Jill tilted her bottle at her, and took another drink. 

Relieved, she settled uncomfortably in the chair across from her, stared carefully at the wall, and took a sip. "Kinda amazed it took this long, actually," Lindsay croaked. "We don't usually have the same type. Maybe we were due for it." 

Jill swallowed, and her smile faded, and it occurred to Lindsay, she had just inadvertently revealed more than she was ready for. Her eyes once again sunk to the carpet. 

"I was serious you know." Lindsay blinked, unsure why her eyes were suddenly moist, and glanced at Jill. "I didn’t sleep with her." 

That Jill felt the need to reassure her was… disconcerting. Embarrassing. Frightening. "You said it yourself, I don't own her." Her fingers moved delicately over the rim of the glass. "Did you want to?" 

If she was going to be honest, she had to hear it from Jill, too. She owed her that much. 

Brown eyes lifted, and heart on a precipice, Lindsay waited, as Jill absorbed the question, and jerked her gaze away, back on her own bottle. 

Without speaking, Jill took a gulp. Lindsay on a good day was never patient, and the hesitation seemed answer enough. 

"Yes," Jill said finally, and Lindsay tried hard to mask her wince, the confirmation of her fears sending a horrible knot down into her stomach. "Of course I did. Cindy and I…" Lindsay heard a ragged breath blown out, shuffling papers mildly. "We spark. There's an attraction there. She's my wingman. We have a good time." Chest constricted, Lindsay forced a bitter smile. "But I didn't. For a couple very good reasons." 

Unable to help herself, Lindsay glanced up. 

"One," Jill said, adopting a tone Lindsay knew she normally reserved for the courtroom. Hearing it, as Jill leaned back against her chair, blazer off and shirt unbuttoned to allow an ample view of cleavage, sporting a beer, the result was sexy as hell. "When all is said and done, as hot as they are, I don't know if I could settle with a woman. I like dick a helluva lot and strap ons? Aren't the same thing. And I'm pretty sure Cindy's the settling type." She smiled, and Lindsay found herself offering an insecure smile in return. "Two, Cindy is head over heels, forever and ever, pathetically, blindingly, disgustingly in love with you." The statement, so matter of fact, was still new and amazing enough to hit her in the gut, causing Lindsay to close her eyes, for the moment overtaken. 

"God," she managed raggedly, and suddenly laughed, lost in her own inadequacy. "How did I not see it? I mean… how did I miss it for so long?" 

Jill tilted her bottle to her lips, and her smile looked bittersweet. "You are remarkable at not seeing what's right in front of you." 

The tone was bittersweet, said with a forced carelessness that hadn't been prevalent before, and startled, Lindsay glanced up, discovered somber blue eyes on her, a stilted smile on those full lips. 

Raggedly, she exhaled. "Does she know-" 

"About me and you?" Blinking, Jill shook her head lightly. "Honestly, I didn't know if that would help or hurt her, talking about a one night stand that happened years ago. I mean, aside from… me… I don't remember there ever being any other women for you." 

There hadn't been. Up until recently, Lindsay had been caught up in a Tom induced fog that broke her, blinded her to anyone else after they divorced. And then Pete came, and made it so easy… 

She hadn't expected Cindy. Cindy had been different. She had snuck in quietly; through some back door that Lindsay hadn't even been aware was open. 

"Linds." A soft voice interjected into her thoughts, and Lindsay once again gave her friend her attention. 

Slumping in her seat, Lindsay felt suddenly exhausted. "Claire thinks that we should just not say anything. Pretend we don't know. Let her move on." 

"Sounds reasonable," she heard, before the dull thud of a bottle against a desk caught her focus. "And where do you stand on all this?" 

Lindsay exhaled, fingers tightening around her bottle. "I stand on 'I really need to see Cindy'." 

Jill knew her well enough to make the intended inference. "Okay," she heard. "Just so you know… she's still my wingman. I'm not giving her up." 

The possessive tone made her blink, and she glanced at Jill, to see a serious expression. 

"I mean it," Jill continued. "Attraction aside? She is the best redheaded bait ever. The people swarm on her like she's covered in honey." That produced a mental image that made Lindsay squirm. "And I'm still not sure you deserve her. This relationship has been seriously one-sided. You've got a lot of ground to make up." 

Leave it to Jill to state it so blatantly, and offer Lindsay no ground to refute. "I know. But to be fair, I had no idea." She laughed bitterly, beyond frustrated. "I mean, hell, how the hell was I supposed to know? I didn't even know she liked girls!" 

Jill's mouth puckered with the bitterness of the beer, and she waved a surrendering hand to Lindsay, conceding the point. 

"She should have told you," Jill agreed. "But by the time I found out… you were with Pete." The name caused an unintended wince on Lindsay's part. "Speaking of Mr. Perfect, have ya told him about your little epiphany?" 

"It's been a hell of a morning," she admitted gruffly, fingers rubbing against each other in her lap, tangling and untangling, pressure easing and starting up again. " Pete's waiting for me at home. I called him," she explained further. "I told him we had to talk." 

Across from her, Jill kept silent for a moment. "If it's talking and not sex, I’m worried." 

Lindsay's mouth pulled into an unintentional smile. "Well, how do you think he's going to react when I tell him that the reason it's been so easy to be together these last eight months is because during that time I've been falling for a yappy redhead who did his job better than he did?" 

Jill absorbed that, and then took her bottle back. "I think," she said, nodding seriously, "He's going to say, 'You couldn’t have told me this on the phone?'" 

The incredulous statement hit her hard, and after a look at dancing blue eyes, Lindsay gave up, breaking into a burst of laughter that was sorely needed. Jill smiled, chuckling along side of her, and when her bottle lifted, Lindsay had no choice. 

The bottles came together in a companionable clink.


	6. Chapter 6

**Part Six**

Seated at her kitchen table, her furry companion settled lazily at her feet, Lindsay Boxer leaned forward on her elbows and, fisted palms pressed against the bridge of her nose, sucked in a deep, unsteady breath. 

The daylight had weaned into the night, and she was alone. Pete's hurt brown eyes still haunted her, created an itch in her chest, and there was a reason Lindsay Boxer was just no good at relationships. It resonated in the way Pete had glared at her; in the way he just didn’t seem to comprehend what it was she had done, what it was she was feeling, and honestly why would he? On the surface, these feelings had come so far, so fast, and Pete had invested eight months on the true hope and belief that when they got a real chance, it was going to happen. They really were going to be together. 

Instead, as payment for his grand romantic gesture, he had Lindsay explaining to him with stumbling words and teary eyes that not only was that not going to happen, but she wanted somebody else more. She wanted a woman more.

And just like that, Lindsay Boxer had broken his heart, and he had left her. 

Left to her own devices, to her own mind replaying words and actions, Lindsay's confidence failed her, and she found herself considering what exactly she had done. 

Beneath her, Martha shuffled closer and carefully laid a slender head over her booted toe, emitting a loud sigh in the process. 

Vibrations at her hip caused an automatic reaction, and creasing fingers over her temple, she unbuckled the phone from her belt and lifted it up to her ear, keeping her eyes closed as she managed flatly, "Boxer." 

"How'd it go?" 

Claire's careful tone nearly broke her. With a muted smile she knew her friend couldn’t see, Lindsay breathed heavily into the receiver. "How do you think it went?" Immediately, she regretted the crabby statement. "Sorry, I just… it went. Didn't exactly expect it to go too well." 

"That's true," Claire acknowledged softly. "So how do you feel?" 

Lindsay managed a small, bitter smile. Leave it to Claire to slowly dig into her like her own personal therapist. That Claire had a habit of mothering them all never bothered her, but today…

"What do you mean?" 

"Any regrets?" 

"I really hurt him, Claire. This poor guy, who thought we were on the same level - hell I thought we were on the same level, and now… I mean… God, why do I do this? Why do I just wreck things? I did this to him, I did this to Tom." Her jaw clenched in frustration, mimicking her tightening chest. "What the hell am I doing, thinking it's okay to go and try to do this to Cindy?" 

A moment of silence, and then she heard a soft, knowing sight. "So there it is." 

Self conscious, she bit her lip. "What?" 

"You're thinking that if you couldn't make it work with Tom, if you couldn't make it work with Pete, you've got no business getting involved with Cindy." 

Matter-of-fact, to the point, and hauntingly true, because Lindsay was a wreck. She knew she was a wreck, and it was cruel to pull a bright light like Cindy into that kind of junkyard. 

Her heart thudded painfully, and it was hard to swallow against the lump in her throat. 

"You know Jill wants her," she divulged carefully.

Another quiet few seconds to process. "How do you know?" 

"She told me," Lindsay admitted, shaking her head, palm smoothing down her forehead to the base of her neck, rubbing in agitation. "Said they had a connection; a spark." 

"Well, that's true," Claire said, always willing to accept all sides. "But then again we all do. And I wasn't aware women were ultimately Jill's type." 

"Yeah, I know," Lindsay agreed. "And she said that, but… " 

"But what?" 

Lindsay sucked in a pained breath. "But she gets her. She does. You've seen it, Claire. I mean, after all this time, Jill was the only one that knew about me. Jill was the only one she trusted. Hell, Jill -"

"Jill isn't who Cindy wants," Claire inserted smoothly. 

Her insides contracted sharply, causing an unwelcome hitch of breath, and still… 

"We don't know that for sure. If I… if I let this happened. Let her move on, then maybe…" 

"You're right." Claire's answer seemed more conversational than anything else, as if she were just commenting on the weather. "Then maybe Jill could get past her fear of commitment and the knowledge that deep down, Cindy wanted you first, and maybe Cindy could get past her feelings for you and never look back and wonder what if and hook up with Jill, but honey, you're hinging on a lot of 'ifs'." 

She was right. Of course she was right. Claire could be judgmental and had a tendency to over-hover but she always told her the truth. It was something she deeply cherished about her, especially when the majority of the people she both apprehended and questioned did nothing but lie. 

"So here's another question," Claire continued. "Do you want Cindy?" 

As if it was that simple. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind, and Lindsay's heart felt bruised and battered from the self-imposed beating it had taken. And really, didn't it all boil down to that? Hadn't the last few months been simply about battling that question? As unknowing as she had been, the unrelenting pressure that had been building up inside of her at even the thought of things ending between she and Cindy; of someone else, anyone else, claiming Cindy's heart and taking her away from her, had superseded any thoughts about missing Pete.

Even the house seemed emptier now, hollow and missing the twinkling laugh of the little reporter who had settled into her own corner of the couch and carried her own key. 

Lindsay's fingers battled a knot on her shoulder, rubbing in a rhythmic, distracted manner. 

"Yes," she breathed. "But I don't think I deserve her." 

Because she didn't. It had been wholly unfair, she knew it, to be okay with the fact that Cindy had been sacrificing her personal life to play her substitute companion. It wasn't okay to have such a problem with Cindy trying to move on; to feel so wholly possessive of a woman who she had never ever had permission to own, and just took from because she knew she could. Because it was safe to crave Cindy when there was a boyfriend to hide behind. 

Claire breathed a heavy, audible sigh. "Maybe you don't. But Lindsay, it's not about what we deserve. Things happen to us whether we deserve them or not; good and bad. Ed didn't deserve to get a bullet in his spine, you didn't deserve Kiss-Me-Not ruining your marriage with Tom, but they happened, and we've accepted them and we've moved on. It's a little hypocritical to look into the eyes of a gorgeous woman who loves you, and knows you and wants you for who you are and tell yourself you don't deserve to have her. And honestly, to me, that sounds like an excuse." 

Maybe it was. God knew, Lindsay had hid behind them forever. 

"You know, when Pete looked at me today, after I told him what I did, there was this terrible thought that flashed through my head. The thought that if I did this with Cindy, one day I'd do the same thing, and God help me, Claire, I couldn't take her looking at me like that. If it was her that walked away from here, I don't think I could take it." 

"Well," Claire answered a moment later, "You'd just have to make sure that that wouldn't happen, right?" Lindsay closed her eyes. "Lindsay, how about you focus on trying to figure out how to get this romance started before you start thinking about how it would end?" 

Lindsay blinked, and her eyes opened. 

\--

When Jill opened her apartment door to Cindy, the small reporter opted for her brightest 'I'm sorry' smile and lifted a paper bag full of assorted treats.

"Frozen yogurt," she explained at the look of bemused contemplation on her friend's face. "With syrup and caramel and whipped cream and because I know you'll appreciate the dirty reference, cherries." 

The confusion melted into a smile, and Jill pushed her door open wider, allowing her to walk past her and into her living room. 

Once inside, and under Jill's watchful silence, Cindy felt her pasted on smile fade in favor of a rather stilted one. "It's my way of apologizing," she said quietly. "You know, for running out of the office this morning like a coward with my tail between my legs. And then ignoring your calls." 

Still in her suit, but without her blazer, Jill slipped her hands in her pockets and regarded her, wearing a clouded look on her face that was neither encouraging nor confidence boosting, all things considered. 

Cindy's gaze went to the floor, but then she felt a shift of weight, and slender arms plucking the bag out of her arms. Her head lifted, and she beheld Jill heading to the kitchen with it. 

"So what kind of flavor of ice cream didja get?" came the overly conversational voice. 

Grateful for even that, Cindy bit her bottom lip in unspoken relief and followed her, leaning into the doorway and allowing Jill to discover that for herself, as the other woman plucked the procured offerings out of her bag and set them on the counter. 

"Vanilla and Pralines and Cream," Jill noted. "You're a purist." 

"Only when it comes to toppings," Cindy admitted, feeling a blush flush onto her face for no other reason than the fact that Jill was now looking at her as if she wanted to pat her on the head. "You need a simple base if you're really going to savor the complex city that comes with the layering of flavors." 

Jill's fingers froze. "You've put a lot of thought into this." 

"I put a lot of thought into everything," she agreed humbly. "I can't really help it. It's my brain. It never really turns… off." 

Jill understood this, at least she appeared to. She tossed a smile at her that was both indulgent and charming. Reaching for the bowls, Jill uncapped the container. "So, how was work?" 

"Work was…" Cindy shrugged, and found she didn't even have the energy for polite smalltalk. "Ya know, hell." Jill's movement stilled. "What happened?" Cindy blurted, unable to help herself. "I mean, seriously? What happened? Did I totally leave you in a lurch?" 

Jill, not usually the type to clam up, simply glanced back down at the chilled containers, taking a moment to issue a labored sigh which, in Cindy's opinion, wasn't the most encouraging thing she had ever done. 

"Lindsay didn't shoot me," the other woman said finally, back in action, scooping out spoonfuls of frozen yogurt and depositing them into two small bowls. "But she wasn't exactly thrilled." 

Nausea suddenly rose in her throat, and Cindy's head fell against the wooden doorway. Chest rising, then falling, she tried hard to clear her head from any sort of stupid questions that she was suddenly desperate for answers to. "Do they," she tried, panting an unable to suppress it. "Do they still think that we… you know…" 

"That we slept together?" Fingers dripping with caramel, Jill licked the sauce off her fingertips, and grabbed the bowls, walking carefully to her and holding one out for her to take. "No, they don't. I set them straight on that." Jill's mouth flattened into a thin line, and then her eyes averted as she moved past Cindy's shoulder. "I set Lindsay straight about a lot of things." 

Her eyes to widened, and an irrational fear jerked into her heart as she swiveled on her heel and followed Jill quickly into the living room. "What does that mean?" 

But Jill was being infuriating, settling down on the couch and purposefully digging into the sundae she had made for herself, shoveling a heaping spoonful into her mouth. 

In no mood to eat, Cindy could only helplessly sink down beside her, watch as Jill winced slightly, and indicated to her temple. "Brain freeze," she mumbled, before swallowing. 

"Jill!" Cindy snapped, losing her patience.

"Cindy?" She placed the sundae on the coffee table in front of her and then turned scrutinizing eyes toward Cindy. "When you talked about giving up on Lindsay, you know, moving on, were you serious?" 

What kind of question was that?

Face flaming hot, Cindy now found her heart hammering unsteadily against her chest, and she fumbled with her bowl, setting it fast on the coffee table before she spilled the melting pile all over herself. "Come on, Jill." 

The expression Jill was giving her was impossible to read, and when the other woman suddenly leaned forward and opened her mouth against hers, Cindy was ill prepared. She gasped with surprise, and the result was Jill's tongue sweeping in, tangling gently with her own. Unsure of the motive, Cindy simply kissed her back sweetly, too overwhelmed to question Jill or her intentions, palm lifting to press her fingers against Jill's chin, and carefully, pulling back. 

The knot in her stomach had only tightened when Jill, face inches from her own, let her tongue dart around her mouth and then offered her a bittersweet smile. 

"That was for me," Jill said hoarsely, and eyes widening, Cindy gasped, head now swimming, heartbeat racing. "Because I've wanted to do that sober. For a while now."

"Jill," she began, voice thick and full of regret. 

Hearing that, Jill didn't even let her finish. She just shook her head quickly. "No, I- I know it wouldn't work. I wasn't expecting anything, I just… I just wanted to. While I had the chance." Eyes wide with emotion, the lump in Cindy's throat prevented her from questioning what Jill meant by that, so the bombshell lawyer continued. "And I think that answered a lot, don't you?" Though Jill's eyes seemed to glisten, the other woman was still smiling. "You're not ready to give up on Lindsay. I shouldn't have pushed you." 

The tone was flat, no room for argument, and even though Cindy's mouth opened, ready to argue, she found she didn't have the words, or the gumption. 

Unwillingly, her eyes began to sting with unshed tears, and she laughed dryly, slumping against the couch and lifting her head to the ceiling. "This is some fucked up shit right here." 

It was the most crass she had been with Jill, but thankfully, the wonderful thing about Jill, was that she could be. 

Beside her, fingers smoothed over her palm and tangled with hers. Exhaling raggedly, Cindy automatically squeezed, grateful for the connection. 

"So I'm going to tell you three things," she heard, after an extended bit of silence. "And you're going to listen to them, and then you're going to go home and process them, and tomorrow, I hope like hell we can still be friends." 

The statement was oddly endearing, and too emotionally spent to do anything but quirk an eyebrow at her suddenly insecure friend. 

"Jill, we're always going to be-" 

"Uhuh, wait until you hear what I'm going to tell you," Jill said quickly, and then took a deep breath, not really allowing Cindy to absorb that before she began, "One. No matter what happens, I still want us to go out. Hang out, whatever. Because I really like hanging out with you and I think we kill in those bars, and God knows I need a regular sex life with hot bar boys to stay sane." 

Lips twitching, Cindy nodded. "Sure." 

"Okay." Jill bit her lip, as if steeling herself, and launched forward again. "Two. Lindsay is breaking up with Pete. Tonight. She's probably broken up with him already." Cindy's heart dropped suddenly down into her stomach, and the sensation made her breathless. "And the reason that she did that is … number three." Jill sucked in a pant that ended in a swallow. 

"What's number three?" Cindy asked, whispering and barely hearing herself over the blood rushing into her ears. 

Jill hesitated, and then began, "Three is that Lindsay knows how you feel." Jill eyed her apologetically. "I may have told her that you're pathetically blindingly disgustedly in love with her. It slipped out."

\--

Keys. Gun. Jacket. 

Lindsay Boxer stepped out of her house and locked it firmly behind her with shaking hands. 

Running fingers through her wavy brunette locks, she took a moment to steel herself, and tried hard to steady her pounding heartbeat as she headed down the steps and toward her Jeep and to what was quite possibly the most frightening conversation of her life. 

If Cindy would even let her in the front door.

Even so, pure resolve kept Lindsay from turning and taking the coward's way out. Her finger itched for her cell phone, to make good use of the text messaging feature that Cindy loved so much to try and spell out what she had to say that way. 

At least that way, she didn't risk any slaps to the face or any other sort of reaction or rejection given to her by Cindy for months of being treated as a back up quarterback. 

So intent on reaching the car and not chickening out, Lindsay nearly tripped over her boots when she plunged a shaking key into her jeep's car door and discovered an unmistakably familiar little red car parked down the street, with what appeared to be an equally unmistakable redhead in the driver's seat. 

Frozen, Lindsay found her breathing immediately go unsteady, and pulled her key out of the car door, immediately hiking toward Cindy's car. The fact that Cindy was still in it and had yet to see her was cause for concern, and against her better judgment, Lindsay was almost grateful for that. It gave her a reason to focus, other than her own lovesick paranoia, and made approaching the very woman she was going to see infinitely easier. 

Coming closer, she hesitated yet again when it became clear that Cindy still didn’t see her. The younger woman instead seemed to be speaking into thin air, eyes on her dashboard, and consequently, Lindsay nearly felt bad about tapping hesitantly on the driver's side window and startling Cindy so much the other woman jumped and banged her head on the glass. 

"Cindy!' 

Cindy Thomas rubbed her head ruefully, eyeing her with wide brown eyes and an utter flabbergasted expression, before common sense finally caught up to the little reporter and she rolled down the window. 

"Hi." 

The smile that floated on her face, a combination of unintended amusement, nerves and being utterly besotted, didn't seem to help. "Hi," she whispered carefully. Hands spread on the window, and Lindsay leaned forward, feeling her pulse quicken, fingers squeezing as a result. "What are you doing here?" 

"Oh…" Cindy still seemed to be in shock. She placed her hands on her wheel, as if she could drive away at any second, and then began to look anywhere but Lindsay, fumbling with her air conditioning, and then unexpectedly raising the volume on her radio. 

They both winced when Maggie's surprisingly good sound system blasted into their eardrums. 

Immediately, Lindsay leaned forward past Cindy and turned the knob the other way.

"What are you doing here?" she asked again, trying hard to both keep her patience and ignore the ringing in her ears. 

"I promised Jill I'd come," came the strangled reply.

The mention of her best friend and unintended rival caused a rather uncomfortable clog of emotion. Swallowing hard, Lindsay tried hard to stay casual. "Oh, okay. You've talked to Jill, then." 

Impossibly round eyes grew even rounder. "I killed her." 

To say the statement threw her would be an understatement. "Say that again? You did what?" 

"Metaphorically," Cindy amended, and gripped the steering wheel so hard, her knuckles were white. "In my head. I've killed her a thousand times." 

The conversation had taken a surreal turn, and unfortunately with Cindy Thomas, that was becoming a regular occurrence. 

Resisting the urge to smile, Lindsay stilled the impulse to reach forward and gently smooth an errant bang away from a smooth milky forehead, keeping her arms crossed as she relaxed into the door. "Oh, really." 

"Oh yeah," Cindy responded, sounding out of breath and still high pitched. "I've strangled her. Lit her on fire. By execution squad. Drowned her with cats." 

"With cats?" she repeated. 

"Sure. You know. In a big bag. With a bunch of angry cats. Threw her in the ocean." Cindy's fingers locked harder around the wheel, and she looked at Lindsay with a completely serious stare. "Except in that one she became Cat Woman instead of actually dying and went on to wreak havoc over San Francisco. And you had to start wearing a batsuit."

There was nothing Lindsay could say to that, except, "Would that make you Vicki Vale?" 

A high pitched, strangled laugh was her answer. "Ironically, I was Robin." 

"You've thought about this an awful lot," Lindsay answered breathlessly, now stuck with mental imagines of Jill in leather and Cindy in white tights and yellow shoes. 

"I've been here for an hour." 

An hour. The statement was immediately sobering. Lindsay felt her fingers tighten on the door, her heart jerk in protest. "Do you want to come in?" 

Cindy blinked at her, the color gone from her face, and she glanced helplessly at her hands, still in a death grip with her steering wheel. "I can't seem to let go." 

"Oh." Unsteadily, Lindsay carefully reached in, and with as gentle a touch as she could muster, began to peel Cindy's fingers off the vinyl covered steering wheel, feeling a sudden rush of air expelled from Cindy's lips blow right against her ear, making her teeth clench in reaction. Cindy's hands were actively trembling, and noting that, Lindsay found herself unrelentingly tender, smoothing her palms over Cindy's hand, ever careful as she redeposited the hands in the lap of their owner. 

Turning her head, she discovered brown eyes inches from her own, and her own voice failed her, full focus instead engaged in searching the large brown orbs of the younger face staring at her with a mixture of morbid curiosity and absolute hunger. 

Closing her eyes before she jumped an embarrassing gun, Lindsay pursed her mouth and bobbed her head, carefully extracting herself from Cindy's car, purposely jamming her hands into her back pocket and shifting her weight back on her heels. "Do you want to come in?" she asked again, desperate for a yes. 

That seemed to do something, at least, as Cindy stared down at her lap and then fumbled for the door, jerking the door open and unsteadily climbing out, until she leaned against the car door, and wrapped her arms around her waist, staring at the gravel and anywhere but Lindsay's face. 

"Were you on your way somewhere?" 

Lindsay bit her lip, and nodded slowly. "On my way to see you, actually." 

The red hair bobbed, and Lindsay was treated to a beautiful, startled expression, complete with pouty red lips and a flush across striking cheekbones. "Oh." 

Still, Cindy's feet seemed planted to the ground, and her friend made no attempt to move. 

Casting her house a longing glance, Lindsay felt her fingers curl inside the pockets of her jeans, and she kicked at a pebble, trying hard to alleviate her own nervous frustration. 

"Listen, Cindy-" 

"I'minlovewithyou." 

Statement blurted, mangled, it still rang in Lindsay's ears as if it had been trumpeted by horns. Mouth falling open, Lindsay stared, and Cindy's face was now very, very red, and she was openly twitching. 

Now panting, Lindsay was in no shape to utter anything, but an idiotic, "What?" 

A trembling finger lifted up to swing that bang that Lindsay had been eying so longingly earlier back behind Cindy's ear. "I love you." Cindy said it again, and this time, it seemed more unbelievable than the first. "I know Jill told you. But I had to say it. I've been in love with you for a while now, and it's not going away, and believe me I've tried to make it go away, and I can't. And the thing is, I've realized that I really don't want it to. Because it feels right. Loving you. I mean, I don't know what that means, but I just… I've never felt like this about anyone, and I know I'm young, but I don't think that matters, because I can go my whole life walking around being with people and wishing they were you, but at least now you know about it. So… that's what I came here to say, and that's all, really, so I'm going to get into my car-" Hands fumbled for the handle, and immediately Lindsay was filled with a resounding panic at the sight. 

With an almost superhuman quickness, she grabbed hold of the opening door and pushed it closed, trapping Cindy between herself and the unyielding car door. She was free to feel now, the way Cindy's breathless pants caused her chest to rise and fall against her sinewy form, the way her own heart seemed to match Cindy's pulsing one, beat for beat. The heat that burned between them, and there it was, that heady desire, the overwhelming passion that caused the dark need in her eyes, and the throbbing ache in her groin. 

And, God, this was just from… THIS. From LEANING. 

Jesus Christ. 

Swallowing hard, Lindsay looked intensely into the upturned face, searching for purchase. "I haven't been a good friend to you, I know that. And I'm a disaster area in every aspect of my personal life, but we work, Cindy. Last night, when Pete came and you left, I couldn't stand it. I wanted you to stay with me, and not just because I got used to you, but because I needed you. Please, please, please don't say everything you just said to me, and give me the whole damned world, and then take it away by leaving. Tell me we have a chance to figure this out, because I'm crazy about you, too." 

A moment where Cindy did nothing, just stared up at her with wide brown eyes that before Lindsay could always read and now said nothing at all. Lindsay's fingers clutched the car door desperately, and not just to keep Cindy from leaving, but to keep herself from keeling over, her knees from buckling. 

"It's been a really long day," she heard dizzily. Cindy's hands smoothed over hers, and distracted by the contact, the feel of Cindy touching her forcing her dark eyes to her hands, until Cindy's voice pulled her back to Cindy's face. The other woman looked breathless, and frightened out of her mind. "And I really… I really need to process this. Because that was so not what I was expecting to hear." 

Confused, unsure, Lindsay felt as if she had been struck. "What were you expecting to hear?" 

"Batman wasn't gay, for one," Cindy offered helpfully, voice wavering. 

Lindsay's laugh was strangled, off-pitch. "Can I prove it to you? Please. Let's go inside. We can talk about this-" 

Her eyes dropped down, studied the lack of space between them. "I'm um… I need to process this, and if I go inside, I think I might… I might do something neither of us are ready for." Head lifting, white teeth bit down on a plump bottom lip. "Can you let me go?" 

There it was, the very question Lindsay had dreaded hearing. 

"Just give me some time. To figure this out. In my head. My heart is saying one thing and my head is saying another and I just need some time to catch up… I mean you just broke up with Pete… right?" 

The insecurity in Cindy's voice was enough to have her nodding violently, but her smile was stilted, pained. 

"The thing is, Lindsay. I need to make myself figure out how to believe you." 

She hesitated, considered just lowering her head and pushing through Cindy's hesitations with a searing kiss planted across her lips, but… 

But… 

"Okay," she managed, suddenly unaware of the tears until they were hotly sliding down her cheeks. She didn't bother to wipe them, simply did what she could to move away from a heaving chest and a gorgeous face, pushing against the car door and setting little Cindy free. "Okay," she said again, as if to reassure herself. "If what you need is time then…okay."

And maybe this was her chance to prove herself. Make her believe. 

"Thanks," came the barely there whisper. 

Head down, Lindsay waited for the opening of the car door, the inevitable turn of the ignition that would signify Cindy taking advantage of her freedom and driving away from her. 

Instead, she found a pale hand smoothing up her chest and fingers digging into her nape, and her head lifting long enough to feel soft lips plowing into hers. Tripping backwards with surprise, Lindsay groaned raggedly in response, and wrapped her arms tightly around the woman kissing her, fingers grabbing bunches of Cindy's shirt and wrinkling it in her fists. Cindy's tongue licked at her lips wetly, and her mouth opened gladly, searching her out and feeling her own tongue sucked gently into Cindy's mouth. 

Heads tilted, lips pressed, and then with heaving pants, Cindy broke free, nibbled once more on her lower lip and fought with Lindsay's hands, pulling them back down her sides. "I'm sorry," Cindy breathed, panting hard, head tilting against hers. "I couldn't… I needed to…I need to-" 

Surging forward, Lindsay kissed her again, mouth sliding hungrily over Cindy's, but this time Cindy kissed her for only a second, before fingers dug into her nape and her mouth pulled raggedly away. "I still have to go," she whispered, and nothing had changed, and fingers squeezed, and let go, before Cindy scrambled into her car, and then turned pleading brown eyes up to her. "Please tell me you can wait." 

Though she desperately wanted more, NEEDED more, Lindsay had no other choice. Breathlessly, she managed to nod her head in a shaky yes, and palm against her gasping mouth, she watched as Cindy drove away.


	7. Chapter 7

**Part Seven**

Lindsay Boxer was a hell bitch on wheels. 

At least according to the guy she collared she was, and honestly, Lindsay couldn't really dispute the statement. Neither could Jacobi, who shot her an exasperated glare as he placed a knee over the spine of the man she had just broken the nose of, yanking both hands behind him and reached for his handcuffs. 

"God-DAMN, Lindsay!" he heaved, panting with annoyance and exertion. "Are you trying to get us sued or what? Walk this off." 

The back of her palm pressed against her mouth, Lindsay struggled to get herself under control. The adrenaline was still coursing through her bloodstream, and head ringing from frustration, she felt her legs twitch and swiveled on the grass, hands coming down on her hips as she stalked off. 

At her car, she leaned against the metallic door, sliding down on her haunches and rubbing sweaty palms down over her thighs, keeping her head down. 

"You know, Tom's gonna have your ass." 

Laughing bitterly, Lindsay managed a shrug, eyes on the ground. "The guy was resisting," she managed feebly. 

"The first time you hit him, maybe.,," Jacobi acknowledged, crawling down beside her, much less graceful in his descent. Wheezing, he waited a moment to recover before he placed his hands in his lap and stared straight ahead. "So… you gonna tell me what's been bothering you this past week or are you gonna let us both get suspended for your excessive brutality?" 

A week, really? That was it? Lindsay had been stepping barefoot on pins and needles for only a week? 

Mouth trembling bitterly, she sucked in a breath of air through her nose, and flipped her hair back, rolling her shoulders in an attempt to bring circulation back into the tight muscles. 

"I've just never been that great at waiting." 

"Waiting," he repeated, and Lindsay kept her eyes on the park, watching as the Uniforms stuffed her latest victim into the back of their black and white patrol car, removing the blood soaked tissue from his nose and offering him another. "Whatcha waiting for?" 

Everything. Anything. Any hint of an answer. Evidence that Cindy's confession of love and resulting kiss hadn't been some achingly real dream or some figment of her imagination. 

Bringing her hands together, she rubbed her palms against each other, gripping so hard she nearly bruised her own bones.

"Lindsay." 

She had spent a whole week with her heart in her throat, a nervous wreck every time she saw Cindy in the precinct or got a phone call with her name on the caller id. Each time, she entertained the hope that maybe this was THE call, the one that told her that Cindy was ready to talk about what they had done, had processed this enough to really believe her. Each time, she was disappointed, and Cindy was polite and sweet and GOD-DAMNED normal. 

It devastated her. Each and every time, and the tense coil that held Lindsay's heart in a vice grip grew tighter and tighter, making it difficult to function, much less act like it was so damned casual and okay. 

This last call, the one Cindy had given to her right before they got to this guy, with her lead and her casual 'meeting at Claire's' had been too much, and Mr. Coke Dealer had gotten the punishment for it. 

"You know Pete and me broke up," she said thickly, and beside her, Jacobi nodded quietly. "Yeah, so… the reason is because I'm kinda… I've got a thing for someone else." 

"The reporter," Jacobi said gravely, with so much finality that she swiveled her head and stared at him in surprise. "What?" he asked, scoffing at her incredulous look. "I've got eyes, Lindsay." 

Of course he did. Because it was all she could do not to moon after Cindy Thomas like some lovesick teenager every time she even caught a whiff of a familiar perfume or saw a flash of red hair, and Cindy never came to her anymore. When she saw her, she was always heading downstairs, or upstairs to Jill. 

It was pitiful how much that hurt, impossible to hide, and of course, Jacobi had seen it. Half-embarrassed, half-resigned, Lindsay resorted to plucking blades of grass from the lawn beneath her feet, flinging the little green flecks away from her. 

"So what's the hold up?" 

Lindsay managed to turn her wince into a smile. "She doesn't believe me," she growled. "She asked for time. Stuffed her tongue down my throat, told me she loved me and didn't want to stop, and then said she needed time to process." 

"Spoken like a true lesbian." 

The statement was so flippant, and so…. True, Lindsay could only gape in shock, and suddenly convulse in laughter. The release was sorely needed, and when Jacobi placed a careful arm over her shoulder, she leaned in gladly, slumping against their car, and watching the city of San Francisco proceed about its business without them. 

"God-damned Cindy Thomas," she breathed with wonder, and knew that Jacobi knew what she meant. 

"I knew she'd get you," was all he said, and it didn't matter how he knew, because it was true. 

Lindsay Boxer smiled, and leaned a brunette head against her partner's shoulder, resigned to that fact.

Somehow, it made it easier. 

\-- 

Her heart literally skipped a beat when Lindsay Boxer walked into the morgue, tall and lanky, and absolutely gorgeous. Despite the fact that there were three of them crowded around the table, Lindsay's deep dark eyes seemed to automatically hone in on her, and the intensity directed at her was enough to make her breathless. 

Her fingers curled automatically, and all she could offer was a small, private smile, before her breath became erratic and she forced her attention from Lindsay back to what Claire was saying. 

Business as usual. 

Of course, when Lindsay was in the room, she never really could focus on anything for long. Not when she could just avert her eyes carefully and study long, slender fingers, with short, bitten fingernails and calloused thumbs. A worn, heavy jacket that fit onto Lindsay like a second skin, and underneath an open collared shirt, that displayed just the hint of cleavage and the smooth, olive skinned throat, with the vein that pulsed whenever Lindsay clenched her jaw. 

Her careful study of her beloved was interrupted when the object of her fascination seemed to sense she was watching, and once again, locked eyes with hers. 

The burst of sudden heat in her direction made her weak-kneed, and lips parting to take in a ragged breath, she once again averted her eyes quickly. 

God, if she thought loving Lindsay was torture before… 

The test she had given herself, her one moment of weakness in which she lost her battle with instinct and plundered Lindsay's lips, had failed miserably, when Lindsay Boxer had given her the best kiss of her life. 

A week later, she was still trying to wrap her head around it, and now, everything she wanted within reach, Cindy Thomas wondered why on earth she was just so scared to take what Lindsay was so obviously offering. 

But it had only been a week, and Cindy was hesitating, so sure that Lindsay would come to her senses, take Pete back, do anything but wait her out. 

But they were here, in a morgue, and awareness of Lindsay Boxer kept her in a hyperactive state of acute arousal and painful need. It was becoming clear to Cindy that, despite her best efforts, there was no getting away from this. 

"Cindy." 

The soft rasp of Jill whispering against her ear and the nudge against her elbow, knocked her dizzily out of her thoughts, and she discovered all three of her club companions staring at her. "Yes?" she managed, and nearly kicked herself when it came out strangled. 

Claire actually had the audacity to be amused. "Did you get what you needed?" she asked gently, as if she had been forced to ask more than once. "That's as much as we can release off the record." 

Thankfully, a pleading look to Jill saved her, as the lawyer leaned in and whispered, "I'll email you the files." 

"Thanks," she said breathlessly, and for the wider audience, nodded. "Yeah, sure. Thanks." 

"Great." Claire busied herself placing the white sheet once more over their victim, and as she did, a shrill chime rang through the air, resulting in Jill reaching into her pocket and pulling out her Blackberry, taking the call. 

With both women busy, Cindy's eyes inevitably dragged to Lindsay, who had dug hands into her pockets, and was regarding her with a shy, awkwardly charming smile playing across her lips. 

The sight was absolutely intoxicating. 

Exhaling, she realized she must have given away something, because Lindsay's smile twitched, and then suddenly she was edging forward, moving around the table Claire was now pulling away, and glancing uneasily to a chattering Jill, who had currently turned her back. 

Nerves suddenly on edge, feet planted to the floor, Cindy watched her come closer, until she was only a foot away, looking down at her with the most beautiful grin. 

"Hi," she breathed, and Cindy's knees nearly buckled. 

"Hi," she managed, and prayed like hell her suddenly stampeding heartbeat wasn't as loud as she thought was. "How are you?" 

"I'm… I'm okay," Lindsay said, shoulders bunching together in a half-shrug. "How are you? 

The idea that they had dissolved in polite formalities was beyond ridiculous, and Cindy blushed, head tilting before glancing away, then back to Lindsay again. "I'm…" She swallowed, and tried to maintain her quiet, soft voice. "I'm okay." Then, before she could stop herself she blurted, "How are you?" 

Immediately, she flushed head to toe, and Lindsay just looked at her, slightly stunned, until the smile widened and she was graced with a soft chuckle that vibrated through Cindy up and down her spine. 

"I was going take Martha for walk tonight, down at the dog park," Lindsay said suddenly, rocking back on her heels and scratching at her elbow. She wore that same nervous expression Cindy wasn't used to seeing on her, and it was both adorable and heartbreaking to see, because Cindy had never meant for this to happen to them. Not stilted conversation or something that barely passed for friendship. "I was wondering… if maybe you wanted to come." 

She did want to come. She wanted more than anything to come. But the words wouldn't make it past her lips. They were blocked in her throat, and lost, Cindy glanced toward Jill, leaning idly back on Claire's desk, still discussing some case or another with whoever was on the phone. 

"I would… but I can't," she finally choked, and felt absurdly ashamed. She tore her gaze away, not wanting to see the look of disappointment on Lindsay's face. "I promised Jill that we'd go out tonight. You know, just the two of us." 

It was the worst thing to say, and despite not wanting to see it, Cindy's lids lifted, and she saw the color drain from Lindsay's face, before her beautiful friend recovered to offer a muted smile and a too bouncy bob of her head. 

"Maybe I can take a raincheck?" she asked, suddenly desperate to fix it, try and make the disappointed face disappear. "You know, later this week?" 

The smile she got wasn't much, but it was a start. With a closed throat, she grabbed hold of Lindsay's forearm, meant to squeeze it, and found herself instead just holding onto it. The feel of the cool skin underneath her fingertips caused a lump in her throat, and again, she swallowed it down. She nearly jumped a foot in the air when she realized Lindsay had grabbed hold of her too, and they were standing there, hands on forearms, unable to shake free. 

Her head lifted, her eyes locked with Lindsay's. 

As her skin pebbled with goosebumps, Lindsay suddenly seemed to retreat, fingers letting go, bringing her arm back and holding it to her like if she had been burnt. "I better go. Have a good time tonight." 

\--

"You know, I never thought I'd say this, but Big Bad Lindsay Boxer is kind of a pussy when it comes to love."

That statement, of course, had to come to Jill. Irritably, Lindsay glanced away from the one way mirror and regarded her sexy best friend, who lounged in the open doorway, light illuminating her blonde cropped cut from behind like an inappropriate halo.

"I'm questioning a suspect," she state matter-of-factly, refusing to be baited. 

Jill glanced toward the mirror, observing Jacobi and the young man with the broken nose. "I know," she answered after a moment, crossing her arms and letting the door swing shut behind her. "I got a call from his lawyer planning to sue for excessive violence made during the arrest." 

Lindsay's eyes shut in a bonafide wince. Because that was all she needed. "Shit," she breathed. 

Jill's shoulder brushed with hers, and she sounded conversational when she answered, "Don’t worry about it. We'll work something out. It won't come to that." 

Like always, Jill was taking care of her. Eyes sliding to study her friend, Lindsay bit her lip in grateful contemplation. "You shouldn't have to bail me out." 

Blue eyes seared into her, before glancing away. "You've done the same for me." 

They lapsed into companionable silence, watching as Jacobi went at their suspect, lifting out Claire's paper depicting the poison found in the victim's system. Lindsay hitched in her breath when she felt a flat, rectangular object being placed firmly into her palm. 

Glancing down, she turned her hand over and unfolding her fingers, discovered a matchbox painted decadently with a logo. 

"111 Minna Gallery," she read, and tossed her friend a questioning glance. 

"It's where we're going tonight," Jill explained helpfully, brow arching at Lindsay's bewildered expression. "They've got an awesome happy hour. And it's where you'll be too." 

Oh. Chest tightening, Lindsay sucked in her breath and tried to keep her voice even. "Cindy asked me for time." Palm spread open, the little matchbox balanced on her fingers, she tried to give it back. 

Jill just carefully grabbed her fingers, and once again closed them firmly around the box. "You didn't see the look on her face when you left her this morning." Lindsay blinked, mouth parting slightly. "I've obviously slept with a few more women than you, Linds," Jill continued helpfully. "Let me give you some advice. Sometimes, a 'no' means a 'yes'. Also, 'whatever' never means 'whatever' and if you ever hear the word 'fine'? Run." 

"And what if it's a no?" Lindsay asked, because it could have been a no. And if it was a no, and she pushed Cindy before she was ready, she would really lose her. And she couldn't lose her. Not when she had never really had her. Not ever. 

Jill just smiled, and leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on the corner of her mouth. Stunned, Lindsay stood stock still. "This is when it's nice to have an in," she whispered in Lindsay's ear, and stepped back. "Trust me on this one, okay? What she needs is a gesture, a push over the hump. You come to this; I guarantee you're getting laid tonight. Also? Might be nice to bring someone hot for me." 

Of course, halfway through that monologue, the door had opened, and her ex-husband, the Lieutenant, heard the last couple sentences. 

Nonplussed, Jill smiled at him grandly. "Hi, Tom." Patting him on the shoulder, she turned back to Lindsay. "Also? Get ready. Your period is gonna go apeshit." With that, she weaved around him and exited the room. 

Noting the pale, blank expression on her ex-husband's face, Lindsay licked her lips, and glanced down at the little matchbox. 

Her heartbeat thudded once again painfully, but instead of grimacing, she smiled. 

\--

"Hi, I'm Jill, and I'd like you to meet Cindy, my wet blanket." 

The statement finally seemed to get through her senses, and blinking, Cindy looked up from her cocktail and noticed Jill eyeing her with a twinkle in her eye, holding the hand of a suited hunk, in the middle of an obvious handshake. 

Flushing, Cindy remembered her manners, and pasted on a smile, reaching out for a handshake and laughing uncomfortably. "I'm so sorry. I just zoned out there for a second there." 

"It's okay," whatever-his-name-was said, issuing his most charming smile back to Jill. "Can I get you ladies a drink?" 

"I’m already packing," Jill said, indicating her glass of wine, "And my friend is the Designated. But I'm sure she would LOVE a Shirley Temple." 

Cindy hated Shirley Temples. She absolutely adored, however, the stricken expressions on the faces of the manly men that Jill dispatched to get the impossibly girly beverage on her behalf. One look at Jill's cat eyes, and she could sense that the very reason her friend had even brought up the silly drink was to put a smile on her face. 

"Uh…" the poor guy stuttered, and he craned his neck, looking back to the burly bartender pouring a whiskey sour for an equally dapper man in a suit. "Yeah, sure. Be right back." 

Hiding her smile, Cindy shook her head as she watched Jill's hunk duck through the crowd. "You know, if he actually comes back with that, you might actually have to make out with him." 

"Pfft, he stunk like cigarettes," Jill said, waving him away immediately. "It's a total shame, too."

"This from the government lawyer with a joint stashed in with her sex toys." 

Slipping a companionable arm around her shoulders, Jill squeezed harder than absolutely necessary. "Now, now, Cindy. That's unhygienic." 

"Why?" she asked, dead-pan now, "You don't bleach?" 

Jill rolled her eyes, and swiveled on her heel, eyeing the decadent art that was splashed before them. "As much fun as your impression of Daria is, are you sure you want to be here?' 

It was a pointed question, and shoulders falling, Cindy closed her eyes and sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry. I'm being such a bitch right now." 

"I didn't say that," Jill twittered, eyes scanning the crowd. "Just saying, you're mind isn't into this." 

And like always, Jill was right. She wasn't. Like always, her mind was morbidly and obsessively focused on one thing. 

God, she missed Lindsay. She wanted to be in a dog park, with a muddy t-shirt, and a smelly dog, and the dimpled smile of the most beautiful woman on the planet. It was domestic and quiet, and nothing like this. 

"What if she's changed her mind?" she asked, voice trembling despite herself as she looked beseechingly up at Jill. "What if she decided she can't wait for me to stop being such a fickle asshole, and calls Pete and-" 

"And you're going to hyperventilate," Jill instructed, and tilted her wine glass toward her. "Drink some of this." 

She made a face. "No. I'm detoxing." The reason had been clear. She had made enough of an ass of herself the last time she had overindulged. 

"Fair enough." Jill was happy to do the drinking for her, taking a sip and arching a brow into the crowd, smile growing wider. Before Cindy could turn to see what had caught her attention, some new guy, no doubt, Jill grabbed hold of her shoulders and kept her in place. "New idea. Let's hook you up." 

A flush of irritated misery flushed over her. "Oh, come on, Jill. That's what got us into this mess." 

"Okay, but this one is totally hot." Jill's palms squeezed her shoulders, indicating her sincerity. 

"They were all totally hot," she groused, feeling lovesick and besotted and pathetic. "And none of them were Lindsay." 

Jill's lips twitched. "Right," she said, with some unspoken give in her voice that made Cindy's brow wrinkle. "Okay, then. How about that one?" The hands on her shoulders gripped hard, and swiveled her like a top, until she was staring into the crowd and directly at the form of one Lindsay Boxer. 

Her knees nearly buckled. It was so cliché, but she immediately lost her breath, because Lindsay looked beautiful. She always did, but her hair seemed to tint blue from it's color of gossamer, and the hopeful, gentle smile that was sent her way went all the way through her, branding her, heart and soul. 

"Lindsay!" she heard Jill call, but her ears were ringing, and there was nothing, nothing but the sight of Lindsay walking toward her, eyes locking onto her like some kind of homing beacon, and Cindy desperately wanted her to come home. 

Suddenly, there she was, staring down at her with that gorgeous smile and those kissable dimples, and those soulful dark eyes. "Hi…" 

Too stunned to speak, she opened and closed her mouth like a wooden puppet, and then glanced helplessly at a beaming Jill, who winked before saying to the absolutely gorgeous man at Lindsay's side, "Hi there. You for me?" 

Before she was ready for it, they were alone, Jill off arm in arm with her impromptu date, and Lindsay right here, in front of her. "What are you doing here?" she finally blurted, and it was just the dumbest thing to say, because it destroyed the smile on Lindsay's face that had been so damned captivating. 

"I just… Jill said…" Lindsay's mouth shut, and her swallow was visible as the lump went down her slender throat. Cindy was transfixed by the sight. "Is this okay?" Lindsay said, a moment later, sounding so unsure it broke her heart. 

"Yes," she said immediately, and because she was apparently bi-polar, now was close to tears. "Yes, it's definitely okay. It's more than okay." 

Lindsay smiled. 

There was nothing better. Nothing. 

"So, gonna drink Jill under the table?" she asked, purposely light in an effort to break the tension looming around them like a thick blanket. Lindsay's brow arched, and suddenly idiotically happy, she grinned. "Because I'd like to see that." 

"Yeah, I bet you would, Thomas," came the sardonic response, and then, because Cindy could, she stepped forward, and into Lindsay's arms. 

The moment her head fell against Lindsay's shirt, she heard Lindsay's heart beating so fast, thumping underneath her ear. Palms gently squeezed around Lindsay's waist; an intimate, tangled embrace. 

Carefully, as if she were wrapping her arms around glass, Lindsay's hands came up and palmed around her shoulders, cheek falling against the top of Cindy's head. 

There was no safer place in the world. 

Above her, she heard a ragged sigh blow out from Lindsay, and her eyes fluttered closed at the pressure of lips pressing faintly against the top of her head. Lindsay's hold tightened, bringing her in closer. 

"You know I’m not letting you go, right?" 

The statement was a warning. Cindy recognized it immediately. There wasn't reassurance, but desperation in Lindsay's shaky tone, and it was then, that Cindy realized just how badly she had scared her when she had run from her that day. 

Lifting her head, she studied glistening eyes and beautiful sculpted lips. Lindsay's expression was serious, so serious, but there were also a thousand other things in that face. Fear. Loyalty. Courage. But above all, love. 

It was there. She could see it, and God help her, because she damn well believed it. 

Swallowing down a grateful sob, Cindy's palms untangled from around Lindsay's waist and reached up to cup Lindsay's cheeks, thumb caressing the open lips lovingly. "Lindsay," she began raggedly, "I dare you to even try." 

The arms tightened around her, leaving her breathless, and it was then that a foreign voice interjected obnoxiously, "For the record? She's still my wingman." Head lifting, Cindy lifted a brow at Jill, hand clasped with the hand of her impromptu date, regarding them with a menacing glare. "I mean it. I'm bargaining two nights a week with this little arrangement." 

Lindsay blinked at her, and when Cindy, fighting a smile, shrugged, she shot flatly, "Once a week. And I chaperone." 

"Buzz killer," Jill muttered, and rolled her eyes, allowing Lindsay's hunk to drag her away. "You guys suck!" 

"You swallow!" Cindy offered cheerily, and when Jill stuck out her tongue, she let her head fall against Lindsay's lean shoulder and laughed. 

\-- 

There existed a sort of paradise in Lindsay Boxer's house. 

It no longer felt hollow. Or empty. The spaces had been filled with the unique laughter that had been so sorely missed. A dog's tail wagged violently, and Lindsay Boxer discovered she was an absolute klutz when she tripped over an overexcited Martha and nearly banged her head on the coffeetable, unable to keep herself from falling thanks to her arms being caught in the shirt halfway down her biceps. 

It was how they ended up on the floor, Cindy laughing as she toppled on top of her, elbow digging into her gut and expelling a gasp of breath from Lindsay. 

Head falling back against the wood, Lindsay closed her eyes and laughed, chest rising and falling, dizzy and in love. 

"Sorry," Cindy whispered, fingers cupping her chin, and in response Lindsay reached up blindly, lips finding the source of the words. Tongues immediately tangled, and her shortness of breath was no longer thanks to Cindy's sucker shot. She kissed Cindy Thomas because she could, feeling the small, firm breasts pressed down against hers, the silky smoothness of Cindy's abdomen smoothing against hers, and then her thighs opened and she bucked up against the firm leg that pressed down against her core. 

Had she any control, she would have savored the moment, the intense realization that this is what had been missing from her life. As it was, her shirt was off, and then came her bra, and soon her own fingers were nimbly and frantically tugging and pushing at Cindy's dress, pushing it down over her waist so she could suck Cindy's breast into her mouth, moaning against a nipple and feeling Cindy's hands clasp her head hard. 

Legs flailed and hips arched and then there was just Cindy and her heels, and Lindsay's half unbuttoned jeans, and the taste of Cindy's pulse on her throat as Lindsay pushed long fingers into the impossibly wet heat between Cindy's legs. 

Fuck. 

Cindy's whimpers made her shudder, the smell of Cindy's sex overpowering, moisture soaking her fingers, and she couldn't stop moving, fingers curling and arms flexing, jerking with a powerful, frenzied rhythm. 

"I love you," she gasped hoarsely, before she could stop it, and then she didn't want to, because Cindy's fingers tightened around her head and jerked up, yanking her to meet her mouth for wet, tangled kiss, before the hips underneath her spasmed and Lindsay swallowed the deep, pleading groan. 

And it was home. 

Hours later, naked, spent and smelly, they curled onto the couch Lindsay now considered Cindy's. Her lover lay on top of her, tracing patterns across her chest, fingers rubbing idly around her left nipple. 

"So how'd you snag a date for Jill?" 

"Oh… the defense lawyer of the guy I arrested today. Thought she sounded cute on the phone. I made him take off his shirt, examined his abs, and then told him that was indeed the case." 

She heard a faint chuckle, and her mouth twitched happily in reply. 

"Jill takes this wingman thing pretty seriously." 

"She should," Cindy snorted. "I'm an awesome wingman." 

"Mmm," Lindsay agreed. "She trained you well, Padawan." 

"Oh, God, a Star Wars reference? You're such a geek." 

"You made me watch the whole damned trilogy, remember?" 

"Right. But only the good ones!"

"There were good ones?" 

She received a pinch for that. 

Silence. Then- 

"I can't believe you made Jill bargain down." 

Eyes fluttering open, Lindsay sighed and closed them again, fingers threading through sweaty red hair, idly tangling strands between digits. 

"Are you kidding? If I gave her any more leeway, she would have tried to include a threesome." 

The note was meant to be light, but it cast an awkward tone tilt in the post-sex chatter. Cindy shifted in her arms, and sighing deeply, Lindsay inched an eye open to regard Cindy watching her strangely. 

"You two have so slept together," Cindy said matter-of-factly. The blood rushed fast to her face, and her heart thumped in panic, but then Cindy just settled against her once more and resumed her slightly sweet, rather cruel torture of her left nipple. "I knew it. We're never getting rid of her. One New Years Eve we're going to get drunk out of our minds and wake up with her naked in between us. It's so going to happen." 

The tone was said in jest, and Lindsay supposed maybe it was right, to discuss this, because it was true. 

And even so, she couldn't help a crooked silly smile, a soft chuckle. "What?" Cindy asked lazily. 

"You used 'we'." It was childish, and silly, and uncharacteristically giddy, Lindsay found herself displaying the most shit-eating grin the minute Cindy glanced up and arched another brow at her. "You're so in love with me." 

"Oh, God, Lindsay." 

"I believe the words were 'pathetically, blindingly, digustingly-" 

"Oh God-dammit-" 

Cindy was openly flushing now, and when she made the move to scramble, Lindsay fumbled with her hands, grabbing hold of her wrists and jerking, forcing the other woman to tumble down onto her, trapping her against her body. 

Eyes suddenly serious, Cindy stared at her, chest heaving against hers. "You love me too," she stated matter-of-factly. 

She was so damned certain about it. It was… really nice. 

"Pretty much," she acknowledged, and let Cindy press a kiss against her mouth. 

Buried into the other side of the couch, Martha whined and resettled herself. 

They were home. 

**FIN**


End file.
